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THE DADDY SERIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS 


Daddy Takes Us Hunting 
Birds 


HOWARD RM3ARIS 

Author of *‘ Daddy Takes us Camping,” Daddy Takes us Coasting,” 
“ Daddy Takes us Hunting Flowers," “ The Bed Time 
Stories,” “Uncle Wigglly and Mother Goose,” 

“Uncle Wiggily Longears,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
EVA DEAN 


R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 

18 East 17th Street, New York 




o 


THE DADDY BOOKS 
FOR CHILDREN 

By HOWARD R. GARIS 


Decorated cover, colored frontispiece, three Illus- 
trations in black and white. 

Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid 


DADDY 

DADDY 

DADDY 

DADDY 

DADDY 

DADDY 

DADDY 

DADDY 


TAKES US CAMPING 
TAKES US FISHING 


TAKES US TO THE CIRCUS 
TAKES US SKATING 
TAKES US COASTING 
TAKES US HUNTING FLOWERS 
TAKES US HUNTING BIRDS 
TAKES US TO THE WOODS 


The stories are about a little boy and a little 
girl, who were taken to many places by their dear 
Daddy. Each book tells something of nature, of 
outdoor life, of birds and animals. 


THE FAMOUS BEDTIME STORY SERIES 


Gaily decorated cover, and eight beautiful colored 
illustrations 


Cloth, Price, per volume, 75 cents, postpaid 


THE BED TIME SERIES 


SAMMIE AND SUSIE LITTLETAIL 
JOHNNIE AND BILLIE BUSHYTAIL 
LULU, ALICE AND JIMMIE WIBBLEWOBBLE 
JACKIE AND PEETIE BOW-WOW 
BUDDY AND BRIGHTEYES PIGG 
JOIE, TOMMIE AND KITTIE KAT 
CHARLIE AND ARABELLA CHICK 
NEDDIE AND BECKIE STUBTAIL 
NANNIE AND BILLIE WAGTAIL 
JOLLIE AND JILLIE LONGTAIL 


THE UNCLE WIGGILY SERIES 


UNCLE WIGGILY’S ADVENTURES 
UNCLE WIGGILY’S TRAVELS 
UNCLE WIGGILY’S FORTUNE 
UNCLE WIGGILY S AUTOMOBILE 
UNCl.E WIGGILY AT THE SEASHORE 
UNCLE VIGGILY’S AIRSHIP 
UNCLE WIGGILY IN THE COUNTRY 


The above are stories of various animals— rab- 
bits, squirrels, ducks, guinea pigs and an old 
gentleman rabbit (Uncle Wiggily Longearsi, dog- 
gies, kitties, chickens, goats and nice bears. Each 
book contains thirty-one stories — one for every 
night in the month. 


Copyright, 1916, by 
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 


u 


PAPPY TAKES US HUNTINQ BIRPS 


fbiS. 


OCT 24 1916 


CI,A445a94 


"Ho / 


Daddy Takes us Hunting 
Birds 


CHAPTER I 

THE LOST BIRD 

“ Mother, may I give Dickie his 
bath? ” asked little Mabel Blake, as she 
stood looking up at the cage in which hei: 
yellow canary was singing so sweetly. 

“ Yes, Mab, I think so. Be careful not 
to spill the water.” 

“ I’ll be careful,” Mab promised. 
“ You please lift down the cage for me. 
Mother, and unhook the bottom. Then 
I’ll set the top part over Dickie’s bath-tub, 
and watch him splash in it.” 

While Mrs. Blake was lifting the big 
cage off the hook where it hung in the bow 
window of the sitting-room, Mab filled 
the clean white dish with water. 

9 


10 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

As she came out of the bathroom with 
it, a curly little poodle dog ran up-stairs, 
barking and yelping. Straight for Mab’s 
feet rushed the little dog. 

“Oh, Roly-Poly! Look out!” cried 
Mab. “You’ll make me spill Dickie’s 
bath water ! Oh, Roly-Poly ! Don’t ! ” 

And, just as Mab said this Roly-Poly 
darted right between her feet, and she 
dropped the dish. The water splashed all 
over the floor, but as the dish fell on the 
soft carpet it was not broken. 

“ Oh, Roly-Poly ! Look what you made 
me do ! ” cried Mab, sorrowfully. 

“ Bow-wow! Wow! ” barked the little 
poodle dog, and this, I suppose, was his 
way of saying: 

“Oh, I beg your pardon! Please ex- 
cuse me ! I didn’t mean to do it.” 

The water had splashed all over Roly- 
Poly, and he shook his shaggy coat of 
hair to shake off the water drops. 

“ Oh dear ! Now that’s worse than 
ever ! ” cried Mab. “ You’ll splatter 
water all over the wall paper! You’re 


The Lost Bird 


II 


^orse than my canary bird, Dickie! I 
don’t see what made you run up the stairs, 
and at me, so fast for. Roly,” went on Mab, 
as she picked up the dish and went in the 
bathroom to get more water from the 
wash basin. 

Just then, at the foot of the stairs, Mab 
saw her brother Hal. Hal began running 
up the steps, calling to his sister : 

“ Did you see Roly-Poly? Is he up 
there? I want him! ” 

“ Were you chasing him? ” asked Mab. 
“If you were you made him make me 
spill Dickie’s bath water.” 

“ How did I? ” asked Hal. “ Anyhow 
I wasn’t chasing Roly. I saw him run in 
the house, and I just thought he came up- 
stairs, so I came after him.” 

“ He did come up here,” said Mab. 
“ He’s all wet, and he’s drying himself off 
by rolling over and over on a towel. Stop 
it. Roly!” she cried, “or mother won’t 
like it. What made him run, Hal, if you 
didn’t chase him? ” 

“ It was a cat, Mab.” 


12 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ A cat? ” 

“ Yes, the big black one that lives in 
Mrs. Jackson’s house. This cat was sit- 
ting on the front steps, washing its face 
with its paws, and, all of a sudden. Roly, 
who was playing out in the street, ran up 
to the cat and barked.” 

“ And what did the cat do? ” Mab 
wanted to know. 

“ He just sissed like a firecracker when 
it doesn’t shoot, and then the cat stretched 
out its paw and scratched Roly-Poly on 
the nose. He howled like anything and 
ran, our dog did. I was playing across 
the street and I saw him.” 

“ Poor Roly-Poly ! ” said Mab kindly, 
as she patted the little poodle dog. “ Did 
the bad cat scratch your nose very hard? ” 

Mab tried to feel the dog’s nose, as 
Daddy Blake sometimes did to tell 
whether or not Roly was ill. For when a 
dog’s or a cat’s nose is hot and dry they 
are not well. Their noses must be cool, 
and moist. 

“ Bow-wow ! ” barked Roly as little 


The Lost Bird 


13 


Mab felt of his nose. “ Bow-wow ! ” 
That was his way of saying that the place 
where the cat had scratched him did hurt, 
and he would rather Mab did not touch 
it. 

“ Poor Roly-Poly,” said Mab. “ I’ll 
forgive you for knocking the bath dish out 
of my hand, because you did it when you 
were scared.” 

“ I’ll go ask Aunt Lolly for a rag and 
some salve to put on Roly’s nose,” said 
Hal. 

“ What did the cat do after she scratched 
our dog? ” Mab wanted to know. 

“ Oh, she made her tail as big as a bo- 
logna sausage, and ran away, too,” Hal 
said, as he went to look for his aunt. Her 
name was not really “ Lolly,” but Hal 
and Mab called her that because she used 
to give them a lollypop now and then. 

Sometimes they called her Aunt Lolly- 
pop, but generally they only had time to 
say half the name. 

Aunt Lolly lived with Hal and Mab 
Blake, and also, of course, with Daddy 


14 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

and Mother Blake. So did Uncle Penny- 
wait. That was not his real name, either, 
but the children called him that because 
he so often said : 

“ Wait a minute and I’ll give you a 
penny.” 

And he did, too, so he got the name 
“ Pennywait.” 

Hal and Mab lived in a nice country 
place near the woods, and they liked noth- 
ing better than when Daddy took them 
walking under the trees. 

While Hal went to look for Aunt Lolly, 
to ask her to get him the rag and salve for 
Roly-Poly’s scratched nose, Mab carried 
the water for her canary bird’s bath to the 
table in the up-stairs sitting-room. Mrs. 
Blake had, by this time, unhooked the 
lower part of the cage, and when Mab had 
set the dish of water on a paper on the 
table, the little girl lifted the bottomless 
cage over Dickie’s little china tub. 

“There now, Dickie bird!” she said. 
“ Take your bath.” 

“ Chirr-r-r-r-r-tweet-tweet- cheep ! Chip- 


The Lost Bird 


15 


chop-chap burr-r-r-rr-rl Sweet!” sang 
the yellow bird very prettily. Then he 
flew down, and perched on the edge of the 
basin filled with water. 

“ Jump in and splash as much as you 
like!” laughed Mab. “You can only 
splash water on the paper, and that won’t 
do any harm. Take your bath, Dickie.” 

Dickie was just about to take his bath 
when into the room came rushing Roly- 
Poly. The little dog was trying to bark 
and growl and whine all at once, and Oh! 
such funny sounds as he made. He tried 
to jump up in Mab’s lap as she sat in a 
chair near the table where Dickie, the 
canary, was about to take his bath. 

“ Why, Roly-Poly — you act as though 
you were frightened! ” cried Mab. “ Did 
anything happen to you? ” 

Just then Harry, or Hal, came in the 
room, and when the little dog saw him, 
Roly-Poly ran and hid under the sofa. 

“ Why did he do that? ” asked Mab, in 
surprise. 

“Well, I guess maybe it’s because I 


i6 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

tried to doctor his sore nose, where the cat 
scratched it,” Hal said. 

“ I should think he would have been 
glad for you to do that,” spoke Mab. 
“ What did you do? ” 

“ Well, I couldn’t find Aunt Lolly to 
ask her for a rag and some salve, or oint- 
ment,” went on Hal, “ so I just took a 
piece of sticky fly paper, and tried to stick 
that on Roly’s nose! ” 

“ Oh my 1 No wonder he ran away 
from you I ” laughed Mab. “ You mustn’t 
do anything like that, Hal ! ” 

“ Mustn’t I? ” 

“ No, indeed ! Come on out, Roly- 
Poly. I won’t let Hal put any sticky fly 
paper on your nose I ” said Mab. Roly- 
Poly seemed to know what she said, for he 
put out his head from under the sofa, and 
Hal patted his pet. He did not really 
mean to hurt Roly, only he thought the 
sticky fly paper would be good for the 
doggie’s scratched nose. 

By this time Dickie, the bird, was 
splashing about in his little white bath- 


The Lost Bird 


17 


tub. He would dip in his wings, and then 
his bill, and scatter the water all over his 
back. Then he would sit down in it and 
shake himself and fluff out his feathers. 

“ Oh, he’s trying to swim, like a gold- 
fish ! ” cried Mab. 

“ It does look so,” agreed Hal. “ Oh, 
what would happen if he should turn into 
a goldfish, Mab.” 

“ He couldn’t, ’cause a fish hasn’t any 
feathers. But if Dickie was a goldfish I’d 
love him just the same.” 

“ So would I,” spoke Hal, “ only he 
couldn’t sing. Goldfishes can’t sing.” 

“Well, maybe they can do something 
else. Anyhow Dickie isn’t going to be a 
fish. He’s stopped taking his bath now.” 

The little yellow bird had hopped out 
of his white china tub, and was drying his 
feathers in the sun, which shone in 
brightly on the table. 

“ I’ll fix his cage with clean paper, 
and you can give him fresh water and seed, 
and we’ll hang him up so he’ll dry,” said 
Mother Blake. 


i8 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ Oh, let’s hang his cage outside by the 
grape arbor,” cried Mab. “ It is nice and 
warm to-day, and when Dickie hears the 
other birds chirping he will sing all the 
more.” 

“All right,” said Mother Blake. 
“ Dickie can be out of doors for a little 
while. But we must be sure the cage door 
is tightly shut, or he might fly out and 
away.” 

“ Oh, I wouldn’t like that ! ” softly said 
Mab. “ I’d rather he’d turn into a gold- 
fish than fly away.” 

So Dickie was hung out under the 
grape arbor, where he dried his feathers 
in the sunshine. Then he began to sing 
very sweetly. Hal and Mab listened to 
him for a while, and then the little boy next 
door called for Hal to come and spin tops 
with him, and the little girl across the 
street wanted Mab to play dolls on her 
front porch, so Dickie was left to sing all 
by himself. 

A little later that day, when Mab was 
tired of playing dolls, she thought of her 


The Lost Bird 19 

pet bird. She ran back to the grape arbor, 
calling: 

“Oh, Dickie! Where are you? Were 
you lonesome for me? Well, here I am! 
Sing, Dickie ! ” 

But Mab did not hear the song of 
Dickie. She looked up at the cage. It 
was empty! 

“ Oh, Mother ! ” cried Mab, running in 
the house, with tears in her eyes. “ Did 
you bring in my Dickie? ” 

“ No, dear. Isn’t he in his cage? ” 

“ No, Mother. He isn’t out there at all. 
Come and help me look for him. Oh! I 
must find him.” 

Mrs. Blake went out in the garden with 
Mab. She looked in the cage but Dickie 
was not there. The cage door was open. 

“ Where is he? ” asked Mab, with more 
tears in her eyes. 

“ I’m afraid he has flown away,” said 
her mother. “ The door must have come 
open, in some way, and Dickie, hearing 
the other birds calling to him, flew 
Out.” 


20 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ Oh, will we ever find him? ” 

“ I don’t know, my dear. I’m afraid he 
must be far away by now. But we will 
leave his cage here, and perhaps he may 
come back to it.” 

“ Hello, what’s the matter now? ” asked 
a jolly voice, and along came Mr. Blake. 

“ Oh, Daddy ! ” sobbed Mab. “ Dickie 
has flown away ! ” 

“ Has he? ” asked Mr. Blake. “ That’s 
too bad. But never mind, little girl, per- 
haps we can find him. We’ll go look in 
the woods across the meadow. Birds love 
the woods. Perhaps he is there. Come 
on, Mab.” 

Mr. Blake took the empty cage in one 
hand, and holding Mab’s hand in his other 
he led the way toward the woods. Hal, 
seeing his father and sister walking to- 
gether, called: 

“ Where are you going? ” 

“ Daddy is going to take me to hunt for 
my lost Dickie,” said Mab. 

“ I’m coming, too ! ” cried Hal, and he 
ran along with his father and sister. 


The Lost Bird 


21 


“ Oh, I wonder if we’ll ever find 
Dickie,” whispered Mab to her brother. 

“ Maybe,” he answered. “ Anyhow it 
will be nice to go bird-hunting with 
Daddy, and if we don’t find your Dickie 
we may find one just as good.” 

“ You couldn’t,” said Mab, shaking her 
head, as she took a firmer hold of her 
father’s hand. “ No bird is as nice as my 
Dickie 1 ” 


CHAPTER II 


THE CHEER-UP ROBIN 

“ Isn’t it nice to be walking witK 
Daddy,” said Hal, when they were on the 
edge of the wood. 

“ Yes,” said Mab. “ It is. Only I do 
hope we find Dickie.” 

“ Hush ! ” exclaimed Mr. Blake in a 
whisper. “ I saw a yellow bird just fly 
in that bush. Maybe that was your Dickie, 
Mab.” 

“ Oh, if it only would be ! ” sighed the 
little girl. 

Softly they went closer to the bush to 
look. It was a good thing Roly-Poly had 
been left behind, or he would have made 
so much noise that he would have scared 
the birds. 

Daddy Blake often took Hal and Mab 
on walks with him, and they were always 
22 


The Cheer-Up Robin 23 

glad to go. But this was the first time they 
had ever gone bird-hunting with him. 

“ This is a queer way to go after the 
birds,” whispered Hal. “ I thought you 
always had a gun when you went hunting. 
But Daddy has only a cage.” 

“ I wouldn’t like Daddy to hunt birds 
with a gun,” spoke Mab, softly. 

“ And I wouldn’t do it,” said Mr. Blake. 
“ But maybe some day we will go hunting 
birds and catch them with a ‘ gun ’ that 
won’t hurt them.” 

“ What kind of a gun would that be. 
Daddy? ” asked Hal. 

“ A camera, to take their pictures,” an- 
swered his father, laughing. “ But now 
we must keep very still, and see if that was 
Dickie whom I saw fly in this bush.” 

As I have said, Mr. Blake often took 
Hal and Mab with him. Once he took 
them camping, and they lived in a tent in 
the woods, and you may read about that, 
and the queer noise they heard, in the 
“ Camping ” book. Another time Daddy 
Blake, with Hal and Mab, went fishing. 


24 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

That was when the two children floated 
off in a boat — but there I know you would 
rather read all about it in the “ Fishing ” 
book than have me tell you here. 

And once Daddy Blake had taken Hal 
and Mab to the circus. After that they 
went skating and coasting, and when Sum- 
mer came again the two children went 
with their father hunting flowers, as I have 
told you in the book just before this one, 
called “ Daddy Takes Us Hunting Flow- 
ers.” 

” Daddy is always taking us some- 
where,” Mab used to say. 

“ And we just love to go with him, be- 
cause he tells us so many nice things about 
the flowers, the trees and stones we see as 
we walk along,” said Hal. 

” And now Daddy is taking us to hunt 
birds,” went on Mab. “ I do hope I find 
Dickie ! ” and Mab gave a long, loud 
sigh. 

“ Hush ! ” whispered Daddy Blake, 
softly. 

He and the two children looked at the 


The Cheer-Up Robin 25 

bush. The wind blew aside the leaves, and 
something yellow was seen fluttering from 
branch to branch, 

“ Oh, it is Dickie ! ” cried Hal, out 
loud, before he thought. 

A yellow bird flew out of the bush, and, 
perching on a tree, not far away, began to 
sing. 

“Oh, Dickie, come into your cage!” 
begged Mab. “ Please come back to me, 
Dickie!” 

“ That isn’t Dickie,” said Mr. Blake, 
“ though it looks like him because that 
bird is yellow, just as Dickie is. But, if 
you could get near enough to him you 
would see that this bird’s yellow breast is 
streaked with reddish brown feathers, and 
your Dickie canary has none like them, 
Mab.” 

“ What bird is that. Daddy? ” asked 
Hal, as the little yellow chap sang a happy 
song, while looking down at the children, 
his head held on one side. 

“ It is called a yellow warbler,” an- 
swered Mr. Blake, “ and this bird is only 


26 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

one of seventy kinds of Avarblers we have 
in this country. They all like warm 
weather, and when it gets cold here they 
fly down South to spend the Winter, com- 
ing back North in the Spring.” 

“ You are a nice bird, even if you aren’t 
my Dickie,” spoke Mab. “ I like to hear 
you sing.” 

“ The warblers are not as good singers 
as your canary,” Mr. Blake told his little 
girl. “ This yellow chap sings as well as 
any of his kind, but his song is much the 
same all the while. Listen to him.” 

Hal and Mab listened while the yellow 
warbler sang: 

“ Sweet-sweet-sweet - sweet-sweet I 
Sweeter-sweeter ! ” 

At least that is the way it sounded. 
Seven “ sweet ” words coming quickly, 
one after the other. And when the yellow 
warbler had sung them once he did it all 
over again. 

“ Is that all he can sing? ” asked Mab. 

“About all, yes. His song is pretty 
much all alike.” 


27 


The Cheer-Up Robin 

“ Then I think I don’t want him in my 
cage. I’ll wait until I can find Dickie,” 
little Mab went on. 

“ I guess you would have hard work to 
get a yellow warbler to live in a cage,” 
laughed her father. “ They are wild birds, 
and love to stay in the woods. Some of 
the warblers have very gay and pretty 
feathers, like this one. Others are about 
as dull-colored as sparrows. Some warb- 
lers like to live in tall trees, others in low 
bushes and some, like the oven-bird, wouldi 
rather be nesting on the ground.” 

“ An oven-hixd, Daddy ! ” cried Hal. 
“ Does that mean he lives in an oven like 
a pie or cake? ” 

” Well, no, not exactly,” Mr. Blake an- 
swered. “ I’ll tell you about the oven-bird 
another time. The warblers, like this yel- 
low chap, live on bugs and insects, and 
that is why they have always to be where it 
is warm. Bugs cannot live in the cold, 
and as soon as the weather begins to feel 
like snow and ice in the air, the warblers 
know there will soon be no more bugs for 


28 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

them to eat, so they fly to the South, and 
come back North, or ‘ migrate ’ as it is 
called, when Summer is here again. The 
birds migrate, or fly, mostly at night, and 
often hundreds of them are killed by dash- 
ing against the big lanterns in lighthouses 
along the coast. The birds seem to be 
blinded by the glare of the light, and throw 
themselves against it.” 

That’s too bad ! ” exclaimed Mab. 
“ Fm glad my Dickie doesn’t — mi-mi-mi- 
grate,” and she finally managed to say the 
hard word. 

“ He seems to have migrated now,” said 
Mr. Blake. “ I don’t see a sign of him. 
Fm afraid Dickie has gone far away.” 

“ Let’s look a little more,” spoke Hal. 
“ Maybe we’ll find him. And if we see 
any other birds will you tell us about them. 
Daddy? ” 

“ Yes,” promised Mr. Blake, “ I will.” 

Daddy and the two children walked on 
through the woods. Mab’s father carried 
the empty cage in which Dickie used to 
live. 


The Cheer-Up Robin 29 

“ There’s another bird ! ” suddenly 
called Hal. “ But it’s colored blue, not 
yellow.” 

“ Then it can’t be my Dickie,” said 
Mab, “ unless he fell into a tub of blueing 
water, where somebody was washing 
clothes.” 

Just then through the woods sounded a 
loud cry of : 

“Jay! Jay! Jay!” 

“ What’s that? ” whispered Hal. 

“ That’s your blue bird, singing,” an- 
swered Mr. Blake. “ It was a blue jay you 
saw. There he is ! ” 

The children saw a large bird with blue 
feathers, striped here and there with black 
and white, and with a crest of feathers on 
his head. He was perched on a limb of a 
high tree, looking down at them. 

“ Jay! Jay! Jay! ” cried the bird, and 
from somewhere in the woods another an- 
swered him. 

“Hay! Hay! Hay!” 

“ He sounds like a rusty, squeaky hinge 
on a barn door,” said Mab. 


30 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ That’s what he does,” spoke her father. 
“ The blue jay is not a sweet-singing bird, 
and he is a great pest and tease, sometimes. 
He often makes a noise like a hawk, just 
to frighten other small birds for the fun of 
it. And a jay is like a crow, for wanting 
to take bright, shining things away to 
hide. I once saw where a blue jay had 
hidden a thimble, a pair of scissors, some 
bits of tin and glass, and a pair of specta- 
cles, all in a hole in a tree.” 

“ Why did he do that? ” asked Mab. 

“ No one knows,” answered Mr. Blake. 
“ I guess he just liked the shine of them.” 

“ He couldn’t eat them,” Hal said. 

“ No,” Daddy answered. “ A blue jay, 
like his cousin the crow, eats worms, bugs 
and grain and seeds. Sometimes jays, 
like crows, will eat the eggs of other birds, 
and a crow is very fond of hen or turkey 
eggs. Crows also like clams, or muscles, 
and I have seen a crow take a small clam 
up in the air in his claws, drop it on a 
stone to break the hard shell, and then fly 
down to pick out the meat.” 


The Cheer-Up Robin 31 

“ A crow is smart, isn’t he, Daddy? ” 
asked Mab. 

“ Indeed he is, and so is a blue jay. 
They are among the wisest birds we have. 
But I think this blue jay is not wise enough 
to tell us where Dickie has flown, Mab, 
though I wish he could.” 

“ There he goes ! ” cried Hal, as the big 
blue bird flew away. 

Daddy and the children walked on, and 
pretty soon they came to a field on the 
other side of the wood. 

“ Oh, look at the funny man in the 
field! ” cried Hal. “ What ragged clothes 
he has, and what a funny, flapping hat.” 

“ And his arms stick out straight,” said 
Mab. “ And see how still he stands, not 
like a real man at all.” 

“ He isn’t,” laughed Daddy Blake. 
“ He is only a make-believe man — a scare- 
crow, which the farmer has put up in his 
field, where he has planted corn, to keep 
away the crows. The crows love to dig 
up, and eat, the kernels of corn the farmer 
puts in the ground. Sometimes they pull 


32 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

up the corn just when it has sprouted, and 
the tender leaves are showing green above 
the brown earth.” 

“ The scarecrow doesn’t keep them 
away,” said Hal. “ Look, there’s a big 
black bird eating corn now ; and he’s right 
near the make-believe man with the ragged 
coat. Is he a crow? ” 

“ Yes, that is a crow,” said Daddy 
Blake. “ Indeed he doesn’t seem to fear 
the stuffed image the farmer has made. 
Crows are very wise, and this one must 
know that is only a make-believe man. 

“ Though crows do eat corn, they also 
eat many bugs and worms that would do 
much harm to the farmer’s crops if left to 
grow. So crows do more good than they 
do harm, even though they may eat the 
eggs in hens’ nests. Some crows can be 
tamed, and it is said they can be taught to 
talk, but I never heard one.” 

“ I want to see how that scarecrow is 
made,” said Hal, and as he started across 
the field the big black bird, with a flap- 
ping of wings, rose in the air, calling: 


33 


The Cheer-Up Robin 

“ Caw ! Caw ! Caw ! ” 

“ It sounds just as if he were laughing 
at us,” said Mab. 

“ Perhaps he is laughing at the scare- 
crow,” said Daddy Blake. 

“ It’s only some old clothes, stuffed with 
straw, and stuck on a pole,” called Hal, 
as he looked at the make-believe man in 
the corn field. “ That wouldn’t fool any- 
body.” 

“ I don’t believe it fools the crows very 
much,” spoke Daddy Blake. “ But we 
had better be getting back home, I think. 
It is late.” 

“ And can’t we find Dickie? ” asked 
Mab, with tears just starting to come in her 
eyes. 

“ We’ll look again to-morrow,” her 
father promised. “ Maybe we’ll find him 
then. We’ll leave the cage out under the 
grape arbor all night, and in the morning 
Dickie may be back in it.” 

Daddy and the children went home. 
Mab was feeling sad, but Uncle Penny- 
wait was so jolly when she got to the house. 


34 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

and said such funny things, that Mab and 
Hal had to laugh. Then they ran out in 
the front yard, for they heard one of their 
little playmates calling. 

“ Wait a minute and I’ll give you a 
penny,” said Uncle Pennywait. 

He gave Hal and Mab each five cents. 

“ These are big pennies! ” laughed Hal. 

“ Don’t spend them all for lollypops,” 
begged Aunt Lolly, as the children ran 
out. 

“ We’ll get ice cream, and give Jennie 
and Sammie some,” spoke Mab, waving to 
their playmates on the front porch. 

That night Mab dreamed that Dickie 
had come back to his cage, and she was so 
happy that she arose early the next morn- 
ing to look. But the cage under the 
grape arbor was still empty, and Mab felt 
sad. 

“ Oh, Dickie, I’ll never see you again! ” 
she said, and two big tears rolled down 
from her eyes, slid down her little nose, as 
if they were having a sleigh ride, and 
splashed on the board walk. 


The Cheer-Up Robin 35 

“ Oh dear ! ” sighed Mab. “ I’m so 
sad,” 

And then, all of a sudden, from the top 
of the cherry tree in the orchard, some one 
called : 

“ Cheer-up ! Cheer-up ! Cheer-up ! ” 

“ What’s that? ” asked Hal, who had 
come out after Mab. “ Who is telling you 
to cheer up? ” 

“ It’s a robin,” said Daddy Blake, from 
the dining-room window. “ That’s a 
cheer-up robin, telling you not to be sad, 
Mab. Don’t cry, now. After breakfast 
I’ll take you on another bird-hunt, and I’ll 
try to get some pictures with my camera.” 

“ Oh fine ! ” cried Hal. “ Daddy is go- 
ing to take us walking again. Hurray ! 

Mab smiled, and dried her tears. The 
“ cheer-up ” robin had sung his happy 
song just in time. 


CHAPTER III 


SUCH A LITTLE BIRD 

“ Let us first look at the robin, before 
we go for a walk,” said Daddy Blake, put- 
ting his picture camera down on a bench 
under the grape arbor. “ Who sees him 
first? ” 

“I do ! ” cried Mab, pointing. “ He’s 
in a tree right over my head ! ” 

“ Where? ” asked Hal, eagerly. 

“ Come here and I’ll show you,” offered 
Mab, and she took her brother’s head be- 
tween her hands and turned it around until 
his eyes saw the robin. 

“ Oh, he’s got a red vest on! ” cried the 
little boy. “ How pretty it is.” 

“ Almost as pretty as my red dress,” said 
Mab, “ only it isn’t so bright. What makes 
a robin have red feathers. Daddy? ” 

36 


Such a Little Bird 


37 


“ I don’t know, Mab, any more than I 
know why you have such nice blue eyes. 
But a robin is really a thrush, and was only 
named ‘ robin ’ because when folks came 
over from England to settle in this coun- 
try, and saw this big bird, with red feathers 
on his breast, he looked like their smaller 
robin, so they gave this bird the same 
name. However, robin is as good a name 
as any, I suppose. I wonder if we could 
find this bird’s nest? Sometimes robins 
build low-down homes in trees, or bushes, 
where one can look in, and easily see the 
little birds.” 

“ Cheer-up ! Cheer-up ! Cheer-up ! ” 
joyfully sang the robin, and then he flew 
down on the ground near where Daddy 
Blake and the children stood, and, after 
looking sharply at a certain place, sud- 
denly pulled up a big, long angle worm. 

“ Oh look ! ” cried Mab. “ How did 
the robin know the worm was there? He 
pulled it right up out of the ground.” 

“ I don’t know whether he heard the 
worm crawling, or whether he saw it 


38 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

sticking its head out of its front door of 
the underground house,” said Daddy 
Blake. “ But, anyway, he has the worm, 
and if we watch we may see where he flies 
with it. There will be his nest.” 

As the robin flew away with the worm 
in its bill, the children and Daddy Blake 
watched. They saw the red-breasted bird 
fly into an old apple tree. 

“ Now come softly, and perhaps we may 
see the little birds,” said Daddy Blake. 
“ And I’ll try to get some pictures of them, 
if we see the nest.” 

Softly the children followed their father 
over the grass. Then Mr. Blake said: 

“ Quiet now ! The mother robin is feed- 
ing the little ones. When she goes away 
we’ll go look in the nest.” 

In a moment the big robin flew away 
once more, to look for another worm. 
Then Mr. Blake went over on his tip- 
toes, parted the leaves of the tree, and 
could look down into the nest. In it there 
were four baby robins, with just a few 
feathers on, for they were only out of the 


Such a Little Bird 39 

egg a few days, and bits of the blue shell 
were scattered about. 

“ Let me see ! ” begged Mab, and her 
father lifted her up. As Mab peeped 
down in the nest the baby robins opened 
their mouths so wide that it seemed the 
little girl could look all the way inside 
them. 

“ Why do they do that? ” asked Mab. 

“ Because they are hungry,” answered 
her father. “ They get used to opening 
their mouths as soon as they hear a sound, 
or feel anything move near the nest. They 
think you are their mother, come to feed 
them.” 

“ Would they take a worm if I gave it to 
them? ” Mab asked. 

“ I think they would.” 

“ Oh, here’s one ! Let me try it ! ” 
begged Hal, who found a worm crawling 
on the ground. “ Lift me up. Daddy ! ” 

Mr. Blake lifted the little boy up in his 
other arm, still holding Mab, and then Hal 
carefully lowered the long worm down 
into the open mouth of one of the tiny rob- 


40 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

ins. The others pushed and shoved, mak- 
ing queer little peeping sounds, for they, 
too, wanted to be fed. 

“ Now, I want to get a picture of the 
little birds in the nest,” said Daddy Blake, 
setting the children down. “ Then we 
must go away, for if the papa and 
mamma robins see us near their nest they 
may be frightened, and we don’t want to 
trouble them.” 

With his camera, Mr. Blake took a pic- 
ture of the little birds in the nest, and when 
he had stepped back the children heard 
loud, harsh cries somewhere in the air 
above them. 

“ The big robins have come back and 
seen us,” said Daddy Blake. “ They are 
afraid we will harm them.” 

“ They’re not crying. ‘ Cheer-up I ’ 
now,” said Mab. 

“ No, for they are not happy when they 
think their nest is in danger,” Daddy 
Blake answered. “We must go away, and 
hunt for some other birds.” 

As Mr. Blake, Hal and Mab walked 


Such a Little Bird 


41 


away from the old apple tree, where the 
nest was built, they heard the robins sing- 
ing; 

“ Cheer-up ! Cheer-up ! Cheer-up ! ” 

“ Now they are happy again,” Mab said. 
“ What was the robins’ nest made of, 
Daddy? ” 

“ Of grass, tree roots, leaves and twigs, 
all woven in and out. It is held together 
with mud, which the robins put smoothly 
on the inside with their bills, as a mason 
does his mortar. Sometimes, if robins do 
not build their nest under a shelter of some 
leaves, or tree branches, when the rain 
comes it softens the mud, and the nest falls 
apart. Then the blue eggs may drop down 
and be broken ; or the little birds killed.” 

“ The little robins were very hungry,” 
said Mab. 

“ Yes,” answered her father, “ every 
day, when he is small, and growing, a 
little robin eats in food more than he, him- 
self, weighs. Just think, Hal ! You weigh 
about fifty pounds, and how would you 
like to eat fifty pounds of food every day? ” 


42 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ If it was candy or ice cream I’d like; 
it,” Hal said. 

“ I’m afraid you’d soon tire of even 
that,” laughed Daddy Blake. “ It keeps 
the father and mother robins busy bring- 
ing worms, bugs and other things for the 
little birds. When they grow old enough 
to fly they can feed themselves. Some- 
times a mother robin will raise two fami- 
lies in one Summer. 

“ Then, when it gets cold, and Jack 
Frost is about to visit us, the robins fly 
South, coming back in the Spring, often 
to the same place where they nested be- 
fore.” 

“ Where are we going now? ” asked 
Hal, as his father led him and Mab across 
the fields toward the woods. 

“ To hunt for some other birds. I want 
to get more pictures in my camera.” 

“ Oh, but I wanted to look, and see if 
Dickie had come back in his cage,” said 
Mab. 

“ Wait until we reach home again,” her 
father said. “ Now we are going to look 


Such a Little Bird 


43 

for a — ” But before he finished what he 
was saying, all of a sudden through the 
woods sounded a call like : 

“Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!” 

“ Why ! What’s that? ” cried Hal, in 
surprise. 

“ It sounds just like in school,” spoke 
Mab. “ What is it. Daddy? ” 

“ It’s a bird.” 

“ A bird ! ” cried Hal and Mab together. 
“ What kind of a bird calls ‘ Teacher? ’ ” 

“ The teacher-bird,” answered Mr. 
Blake, with a laugh. “ It is also called the 
oven-bird.” 

“ Oh, that’s the one you said you were 
going to tell us about,” said Mab. “ Why 
is it called oven-bird? ” 

“ Because its nest is built on the ground, 
with a curved top to it, just like an old- 
fashioned Dutch oven.” 

“ And it must be called the teacher-bird 
because it seems to say the word teacher,” 
spoke Hal. 

“ That’s it ! ” exclaimed Daddy Blake. 
“ It is also called the golden-crowned 


44 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

thrush. But come, we will see if we can 
find the nest of one, and it is not going to 
be easy, let me tell you.” 

Through the woods wandered the chil- 
dren with Daddy Blake, looking for the 
oven-bird’s nest. They could hear the 
birds themselves, calling “Teacher! 
Teacher ! ” in trees here and there. 

The oven-bird is really one of the war- 
bler family, and is a sweet singer, though 
the cry of “ teacher,” so often heard, is not 
very pretty. It is when flying high in the 
air that the oven-bird really sings his best, 
and this song is not often heard. 

“ There is an oven bird on the ground 1 ” 
said Daddy Blake suddenly, and Hal and 
Mab, looking where he pointed, saw a 
little brown bird, with some olive green 
feathers, hopping about. It was about as 
large as a sparrow, and on top of its head 
was a patch of orange-colored feathers in 
the shape of the letter V. 

“ Oh, the nest must be near here ! ” cried 
Hal, springing forward so quickly that he 
caught his foot under the root of a tree. 


Such a Little Bird 45 

and down he went on his face with a grunt 
of surprise. 

“ Up you come ! ” cried Daddy Blake, 
lifting Hal. “ Are you hurt? ” 

“ N — no, I guess not,” was the answer. 
Hal felt all over himself, and put his hand 
in his pocket. “ I’m not hurt,” he said at 
last. “ But my stick of candy is broken. 
But I don’t care ’cause I was going to 
break it, anyhow, to give Mab half. 
Here’s your piece. Sister,” and he handed 
half the candy to Mab. 

“ Well, the oven-bird flew away when 
you fell, Hal,” said his father, “ so we will 
have to look again for one.” 

In a little while they saw another of the 
queer “ teacher ” birds on the ground. 

“ We will watch where he goes,” said 
Mr. Blake. “ Look for a little clump of 
leaves and twigs on the ground. That will 
be the nest.” 

Mab and Hal looked carefully, and sev- 
eral times they thought they had found 
what they were seeking, but each time it 


46 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

was just a bunch of leaves, or grass, and 
not a nest at all. 

Then, all of a sudden, a bird flew down 
but of a tree and began fluttering along on 
the ground, dragging its wings among the 
leaves. 

“Oh look!” cried Mab. “The poor 
bird has a broken wing. Daddy ! Fm go- 
ing to take it home with me, and cure it.” 

The little girl went toward the bird 
which fluttered feebly, and waited until 
Mab was almost able to touch it. Then it 
fluttered on a little farther, just out of 
reach. 

“ You almost had it then! ” cried Hal. 

“ Yes,” said his sister. “ Fll get it this 
time, sure.” Again she was almost ready 
to put her hand on the bird when it flut- 
tered away a little farther. Mab followed, 
sure that the bird was so hurt that it could 
not fly. Hal walked after his sister, but 
Mr. Blake stood still. 

Suddenly the bird, which had been mak- 
ing sharp, piping sounds, rose up in the air 
and flew away. 


Such a Little Bird 47 

“ Why! ” cried Mab. “ It didn’t have a 
broken w^ing at all.” 

“ No,” said her father, smiling. “ The 
bird only pretended to be hurt so you 
would follow, and try to get it.” 

“ Why did it do that? ” asked Hal. 

“ To draw you away from its nest. You 
were too near, and the bird knew you 
would follow and try to pick him up. 
Then, when you were far enough away 
from the nest to make sure it was safe, the 
game was over and the bird flew away. 
That was an oven-bird, but it is not the 
only one who plays that trick. Now come 
back here, and I’ll show you the nest, and 
then we’ll take a picture of it.” 

Down among the dried leaves, near 
where Mr. Blake stood, he showed the chil- 
dren a little round pile of grass. Stooping 
over, Hal and Mab could look into the 
nest and see some tiny eggs lying on the 
soft lining, made of fine roots of wild 
plants. 

“ Here is where the oven-bird is going 
to hatch out the little ones,” said Daddy 


48 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

Blake. “ I’ll get a picture of her on her 
nest.” 

“ How can you, when she isn’t here? ” 
asked Hal. 

“ I’ll set the camera here, and then we’ll 
go away and hide in the bushes, and wait 
for her to come back,” said Mr. Blake. 
“ When I see her on her nest I’ll pull a 
long string and snap her picture.” 

Daddy put the camera where its glass 
eye could look right in through the open- 
ing of the little nest. It was rounded on 
top, just like an old Dutch oven, in which 
pie and bread could be baked. A streak 
of sun shone down through the trees, right 
on the nest so there would be light enough 
to make a picture. 

Mr. Blake fixed the camera, and then 
he tied a long thread to the spring that 
was on the shutter. When this string was 
pulled it opened the shutter, just as you 
raise your eyelids and open your eyes. 
And, when the camera shutter opened, 
then a picture of the oven-bird would 


Such a Little Bird 


49 

come in through the glass eye, and thus 
be made. 

Taking the other end of the string Mr. 
Blake, with Hal and Mab, hid off in the 
bushes, where they could look at the oven- 
bird’s nest without being seen. They 
waited a little while and then they heard 
the call: 

“Teacher! Teacher!’’ 

“ The birds are coming back,” whis- 
pered Mr. Blake. 

A few minutes later the mother bird 
flew down to the ground near her oven- 
like nest. She looked all around and then, 
seeing no danger, in she hopped to cover 
the eggs and keep them warm. Mr. Blake 
waited until she was nicely settled and 
then he pulled the string. 

“ Click ! ” went the camera and the 
bird’s picture was taken. The bird flew 
away when Mr. Blake came out of the 
bushes to lift up the camera, but when he 
and the children had gone she came back 
to again warm her eggs, so the little birds 
would grow big, and pick their way out. 


50 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ Well, we have two nice bird pictures 
now,” said Daddy Blake, when they got 
home that afternoon. “ To-morrow we 
may get more. Some day I hope to be able 
to get a bird to take its own picture.” 

“ How can you do that. Daddy? ” asked 
Hal. 

Oh, I’ll show you after a while,” said 
his father, while Mab went to look in the 
cage to see if Dickie had come back. 

But he had not and the little girl was sad. 

“ Never mind,” said Aunt Lolly, “ you 
still have your dog Roly-Poly, Mab.” 

“ But he can’t sing.” 

“ He can bark! ” cried Hal. “ And 
maybe you could put him in the cage, and 
make believe he was a bird, Mab ! ” 

“ That would be funny ! ” and she 
laughed to think of Roly-Poly in a bird 
cage. 

The next morning, when Daddy Blake 
again started out for a walk with Hal and 
Mab, the children went along in the gar- 
den, to pick some flowers to take to a lady 
who lived down the street. She was ill. 


Such a Little Bird 51 

and Mrs. Blake wanted to send some 
bright blossoms to cheer her. 

“ Oh, look what a funny bug! ” cried 
Hal, as he stood near a honeysuckle vine. 

“ It’s a bee I ” said Mab. “ Look out or 
it will sting you ! ” 

“ No, it’s a bird,” spoke her father, com- 
ing near. “ It is not a bee.” 

“ Oh, such a little bird! ” exclaimed 
Hal. “ Can it really be a bird. Daddy? ” 

“ Yes. If it will only be still for a second 
you will see that it is a bird, with two feet, 
and you know a bee has more legs than 
that.” 

“Oh, such a little bird!” Hal cried 
again, as he and Mab watched the tiny 
creature, which had a spot of deep red un- 
der its throat. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE NIGHT-HAWK 

Pretty soon the tiny bird hovered in 
one place over a honeysuckle blossom. 
The wings kept fluttering and whirring 
so fast that they looked only like a blurr 
of light, as does an electric fan when it is 
going fast. But Hal and Mab could see 
that the creature was really a bird, and not 
a bee. 

“What kind of a bird is it?” asked 
Mab. 

“ A ruby-throated humming bird,” an- 
swered Daddy Blake. “ If you watch 
closely you will see him put his long, slen- 
der bill, as thin as a knitting needle, down 
in the flower to suck up the sweet juice on 
which it lives.” 

The children saw something like a long 
tongue thrust out, and down into the deep 
throat of the honeysuckle. Just as the bird 

52, 


The Night-Hawk 53 

did this Daddy Blake snapped his camera. 

“ Another picture ! ” he cried. “ Our 
bird hunting is coming along very well.” 

“ There goes the humming bird ! ” cried 
Mab, as the tiny creature flew up in the 
air. 

“ Why, it’s out of sight already ! ” said 
Hal. 

“ Yes, they are so small they are hard 
to see,” spoke Daddy Blake. “ That is 
why they are not easily caught, or killed, 
by other birds. The humming bird is the 
smallest one we have in this country, and 
the only kind that visits us is this one with 
the ruby-red throat. In the South trop- 
ical forests, where it is always warm, there 
are many humming birds, but only this lit- 
tle fellow is brave enough to spend the 
Summer with us. He flies from South 
America to Canada, and back again, every 
year. Just think how many, many times 
his little wings must flutter to carry him 
over all those hundreds of miles.” 

“ Doesn’t he get tired? ” asked Mab. 

“ Yes, but he stops and goes to sleep in 


54 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

a morning-glory flower bed to rest, I sup- 
pose,” said Daddy, with a smile. 

“ And are they just like other birds? ” 
asked Hal. 

“ Well, like them in a good many ways, 
but only a humming bird can reach the 
sweet juices that are far down in such flow- 
ers as the honeysuckle, the nasturtium, the 
canna, the phlox or the trumpet-vine. It 
takes a long, slender bill to reach down in- 
side these blossoms. 

“ Humming birds love garden flowers 
and often come back to them year after 
year. Perhaps I can find you a nest to 
show you how little it is.” 

“ The eggs must be little, too,” said 
Mab. 

“ They are,” her father answered, as he 
looked here and there in the bushes for the 
nest. At last he found it. 

Such a tiny nest as it was ! and in it was 
a little humming bird. 

“ This one hasn’t any red on his throat,” 
said Hal, as the tiny creature flittered 
away. 


The Night-Hawk 55 

“ No, for that is the mother bird, and 
she is not as prettily colored as is the father 
humming bird. But the mother bird is 
the nest maker, and see what a dear little 
home she has made for her babies.” 

The nest was like a little cup, made from 
the cotton of the milk-weed plant which 
Hal and Mab had seen when Daddy took 
them flower hunting, as I told you in the 
other book. Down in the little cup, which 
was fastened to the limb of a tree on which 
it could hardly be seen, were two tiny eggs, 
no larger than beans. 

“ And will little birds come out of 
them? ” asked Mab, after her father had 
taken a picture of the nest. 

“ Yes, and when the baby birds break 
out of the shell they are no larger than 
honey bees. But they are real birds, with 
feathers and feet, though they have no 
feathers at first. About three weeks after 
they are hatched they will be ready to fly. 
Then they will go fluttering about, putting 
their long, slender bills down inside the 
honey-flowers. They may also eat little 


56 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

bugs, so small that we Could hardly see 
them.” 

“ And to think a little bird like that can 
fly all the way to South America ! ” cried 
Hal. “It’s wonderful!” 

“ It surely is,” said his father. 

Over the fields and through the woods 
Daddy Blake took the children hunting 
birds. As they walked along Hal sud- 
denly stood still. 

“ Hark! ” called the little boy. 

“ What is it? ” asked his father. 

“ Some one is knocking on the door,” 
Hal answered. 

Then Mab heard: 

“Tap! Tap! Tap!” 

“ Oh, Daddy, what is it? ” she asked. 
“ There are no doors in the woods.” 

“ I think I can show you what kind of 
a bird is making that noise,” spoke Daddy 
Blake. 

“ Was it a bird which made that funny 
noise? ” asked Hal. 

“Yes. Listen.” 

“ Tap ! Tap ! Tap ! ” sounded again. 


57 


The Night-Hawk 

“ There he is ! ” cried Daddy Blake. 
“ A red-headed woodpecker ! ” and he 
pointed to a tree on the trunk of which, 
with his red head pointed toward the sky, 
was perched a bird. Back and forth went 
his red-topped head, so fast that to Hal and 
Mab it seemed scarcely to move. But it 
was moving, and with his bill the wood- 
pecker was drilling holes in the bark of 
the tree to get out the bugs and worms 
underneath. 

“ It sounds just as if he were tapping on 
the tree so some fairy inside would open 
the door and let him in,” laughed Hal. 

“ Woodpeckers do go inside trees,” said 
Daddy Blake. “ They drill, or bore out, 
with their strong bills, a hole large enough 
for a nest. In that the mother bird lays 
her eggs, and hatches out the little ones. 
We will see if we can’t get a little closer 
to this woodpecker, and watch how he can 
hold himself on a straight up-and-down 
trunk of a tree, as a fly holds himself on a 
wall.” 

The woodpecker was not frightened 


58 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

when the children came closer. Perhaps 
he was too busy drilling holes to find bugs. 
But Hal and Mab could see that this bird’s 
claws were not like those of others. The 
woodpecker has two toes in front and two 
behind, and with these he can get a good 
hold on even a small piece of bark. The 
woodpecker only drills holes in rough- 
barked trees, for on a smooth bark he could 
not hold himself, and, besides, there are 
no bugs or worms on that sort of a tree, 
for there are no cracks in the bark where 
they can hide. 

“ Tap ! Tap ! Tap ! ” went the red- 
headed woodpecker, circling around the 
tree, and, when he had made a hole, and 
saw a bug he thrust out his tongue, which 
was sharp and strong, and could be put far 
beyond his bill, just as a humming bird 
can put out his tongue. And when the 
woodpecker had the bug on his tongue, 
that was the end of the bug. 

“ Why, he looks just as if he sat on his 
tail ! ” cried Mab. 

“ Yes,” said her father, “ the wood- 


59 


The Night-Hawk 

pecker’s tail is of short, strong feathers, 
and he spreads that out and props himself 
up on the end of it as he clings to the trunk 
of a tree tapping for his dinner. Chimney 
swallows and bobolinks do the same thing. 
Their tails are made stiff to help them 
stand up straight on the side of a tree, or 
barn.” 

“ A woodpecker would be good for an 
alarm clock,” said Hal. “ He could come 
and tap on your bedroom door in the morn- 
ing and wake you up.” 

“ But he might tap a hole in the door,” 
spoke Mab. 

“ Yes, so he might,” agreed her brother. 
“ I guess I don’t want any woodpeckers 
to wake me up. They might peck my 
toes,” and he laughed at the idea. 

Daddy Blake told of other woodpeckers 
than the red-headed kind. There is a 
downy one and a hairy one, though he 
really has feathers instead of hairs. And 
then there is the “ sap-sucker”. This 
woodpecker drills holes in trees in the 
Spring when the sap, or juice, is flowing. 


6o Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

and sucks it, for the sap is sweet, and he 
likes it. Sometimes sap-suckers kill trees 
by drilling too many holes in them. Then, 
when there is no more sap, the bird eats 
bugs as his cousins do. 

It was evening when Daddy Blake, with 
Hal and Mab, came back from the woods, 
having seen many birds, and “ hunted ” 
others with the camera, getting pictures 
of several of them. 

The sun had set and in the evening, af- 
ter supper, the children were out in the 
yard. Suddenly they heard a harsh cry 
in the air over their heads. 

The came another sound, a sound the 
wind sometimes makes as it moans and 
whistles through a half-opened door, or 
around the corner of the house: 

“ Whoo-ee-oo-ee-oo-ee ! ” 

“ What’s that ! ” cried Hal. 

“ Look up ! ” said his father. “ Look 
up and see ! ” 

Hal and Mab looked, and saw quite a 
large bird, which seemed to be coasting 
down out of the sky. His wings half 


The Night-Hawk 6i 

closed formed his sled, and the air was his 
hill. 

“ Oh, he’ll hit the ground and be 
killed! ” cried Hal. 

“ Watch,” said Mr. Blake quietly. 

Just before the bird reached the earth 
he quickly spread out his wings, and shot 
upward and off to one side, uttering his 
wild cry. 

“ What is it? ” asked Mab. 

“ A night-hawk,” answered Daddy 
Blake. “ And he is flying about to catch 
his supper of mosquitoes and gnats.” 

“Oh, tell us about him ! ” begged Hal. 
“ How swiftly he slid down from the 
clouds.” 

“ I wish he could talk,” spoke Mab 
softly. “ I would ask him if he had seen 
my Dickie.” 


CHAPTER V 

THE bird’s picture 

The night hawk, which Daddy Blake 
had pointed out to Hal and Mab, was now 
flying back and forth, sometimes high in 
the air and again close down near the 
ground. 

“ What’s he doing. Daddy? ” asked Hal. 

“ Catching bugs and mosquitoes,” an- 
swered Mr. Blake. 

“ I wish he’d catch all the mosquitoes 
there are ! ” exclaimed Mab, rubbing one 
fat, chubby leg with the opposite foot. 
“ I’m all itchy now, where they bit me. 
How does a night-hawk catch ’em. 
Daddy? ” 

“ He flies around with his mouth open, 
and grabs all the bugs he can see.” 

“ Even in the dark? ” asked Hal. 

“ Yes,” his father said. “ The night- 
hawk, whose other names are bull-bat, 
62 


The Bird’s Picture 63 

night-jar and mosquito-hawk, can see 
quite well in the dark, just as can an owl. 
All birds that have to fly about, to get their 
meals from bugs in the air, have good 
eyes.” 

“ Well,” spoke Mab, as she scratched 
her other leg, “ if the mosquito-hawk can 
see in the dark, I wish he’d come in my 
room after mother puts the light out, and 
I go to sleep, and then the bird could catch 
all the mosquitoes before they bit me.” 

“That would be fun!” laughed Hal. 
“ Do you s’pose we could have a hawk in 
the house. Daddy? ” 

“ I’m afraid not, Hal. He might nip 
your toes or your nose by mistake.” 

“ Oh, then I wouldn’t want him! ” cried 
Mab. “ Oh, see how fast he flies up. 
Daddy.” 

“ Yes, he is going up for another ride 
down hill.” 

“ I don’t see any hill,” spoke Hal. 

“ Well, the hill is made of air, and that’s 
why you can’t see it,” his father explained. 
“ The night-hawk flies away up high, just 


64 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

as if he were climbing a hill, and when he 
gets to the top he partly folds his wings 
and coasts down. Here he comes.” 

Down came the bird faster than at first. 
There was a queer moaning, or whistling, 
sound in the air that the children had no- 
ticed before. 

“ What makes that? ” asked Hal. 

“ The wind blowing through the bird’s 
feathers,” explained Mr. Blake. “ There 
he goes after more bugs,” and away darted 
the mosquito-hawk over the meadow. It 
was quite dark now, but the bird seemed 
able to see no matter how black it was, 
though I suppose if there were no light at 
all they could not use their eyes, sharp as 
they are. 

“ Do they only fly at night? ” asked 
Mab. 

“ Oh, no. Toward the end of summer 
the night-hawks may be seen in the day- 
time. I guess maybe they don’t find so 
many bugs out at night, then. 

“ When Winter is near, the night-hawk, 
like most other birds, flies to the warm 


The Bird’s Picture 65 

South, and the little hawks, that the mother 
bird has hatched out, fly away too.” 

“ What kind of a nest do they make? ” 
Hal wanted to know. 

“ No nest at all,” answered Mr. Blake. 

Hal and Mab looked at one another and 
then at Daddy Blake. Sometimes their 
father played little jokes on them. This 
might be one. 

“ Well, where does the mother night- 
hawk lay her eggs? ” asked Mab. 

“ In any place where they will be safe, 
and where the sun will shine on them in 
the daytime,” answered Mr. Blake. “ One 
of the best places is on the flat roof of a 
house, right in a big city. The night-hawk 
seems to like to raise her family in the city 
because there are so many lights to draw 
the bugs around them. And you may 
often see bats, and night-hawks, circling 
around under electric lights, catching 
bugs in their open mouths. 

“ I have often seen, on the flat roof of a 
building, the two speckled eggs of the 
night-hawk, and they looked so much like 


66 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

the gravel on the roof that it was hard to 
tell which was which. If the mother hawk 
can’t find a roof, a flat rock will do just 
as well. 

“ The whippoorwill is another bird 
that makes no nest. She lays her eggs in 
the woods, though, but they look so much 
like the dead leaves, sticks and bits of bark 
all around them that you might be close to 
them, and would not see them.” 

“ Whippoorwill ! What a funny name 
for a bird ! ” exclaimed Hal. 

“ He is called that because his song 
seems to sound like those words,” Daddy 
Blake said. “ The whippoorwill flies 
about, nearly always at night, and catches 
bugs just as the mosquito-hawk does.” 

Hal and Mab watched the night-hawk 
darting about, turning quickly this way 
and that as he saw a bug that was trying to 
get away. 

“ I wish I could fly in the air,” said Hal. 

“ I don’t,” spoke his sister. “ I’d be 
afraid of falling.” 

Just then Aunt Lolly called: 


The Bird’s Picture 67 

“ Mab ! Mab ! Come here and see 
something queer.” 

The two children ran to their aunt. She 
had just lighted the gas in the sitting-room, 
and she stood in the middle of the floor 
pointing to the bird cage, which, since 
Dickie had flown away, now stood empty 
on a table. 

“ Oh, is my birdie back? ” asked Mab, 
as she looked toward the cage. 

“ No, but there is something in there,” 
Hal said. 

“ Indeed there is ! ” laughed Aunt Lolly. 

Mab saw something silky and black in 
the bird cage. She went closer. Then she 
cried : 

“ Oh, it’s my cat. Velvet! She crawled 
in the bird cage to go to sleep I ” And that 
was what. Velvet, the black cat had done. 
She purred happily when Mab put her 
fingers through the wires and rubbed the 
soft fur. 

“ It’s a good thing your bird Dickie 
isn’t in the cage now,” said Hal. “ If he 
was there he wouldn’t be there.” 


68 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ How could that be? ” asked Mab. 
“ If he was there he wouldn’t be there? ” 

“ Why, Velvet would eat him up and 
then Dickie would be inside the cat.” 

“ He would not ! ” cried Mab. “ Velvet 
wouldn’t eat my nice bird ; would you, Vel- 
vet? She never even jumped for Dickie 
when I had my bird. And I wish I had 
him here now. Oh, I do wish I had 
Dickie ! ” and Mab’s voice was sad. 

“ Never mind,” said Hal. “ To-morrow 
we’ll go hunting birds with Daddy again, 
and maybe we’ll find your canary.” 

“ No,” said Mab, slowly shaking her 
head, “ I don’t ever believe we’ll get Dickie 
back.” 

Hal and Mab were up early the next 
morning. After breakfast they went out 
in the barn where Daddy had a little work- 
shop or office which he called his “ den.” 
Mr. Blake was busy there, and a camera 
was on the table in front of him. 

“ Oh, Daddy! What are you doing! ” 
asked Hal. 

“ I’m making something so a bird 


The Bird’s Picture 69 

can take its own picture,” was the an- 
swer. 

“ Oh, Daddy ! ” cried Mab ! “ Now 

you’re joking with us, I know you are! ” 

“ No, I’m not,” said her father. “ I 
really am going to try to make a bird take 
its own picture.” 

“ How? ” asked Hal, for he sometimes 
took pictures himself with a little camera 
he had received for Christmas. 

“ Well,” said Mr. Blake, “ you remem- 
ber the time I took the picture of the bird, 
when we were hidden in the bushes. I 
fastened a string to the shutter of the 
camera, and pulled it to open and close the 
glass eye of my picture machine. Now I 
am going to try and have a bird itself pull 
the string.” 

“But how can you?” asked Mab. 
“ You can’t talk to a bird, and tell it to pull 
the string. Maybe you could if it was a 
parrot, for they seem to know what you 
say to them. But there are no parrots 
around here.” 

“Yes, there is!” cried Hal. “Mrs. 


70 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

Jackson has a parrot, and it says ‘ Hello ’ 
and ‘ Pretty Poll ’ and lots of things. You 
could take a picture of that, Daddy.” 

“ I’d rather get pictures of wild birds,” 
said Mr. Blake. “ But I think I can make 
the bird pull the camera string without 
speaking to it, which, if I did, might 
frighten him away.” 

“ How are you going to do it? ” Mab 
wanted to know. 

“ You’ll soon see,” spoke her father. 
“ Pretty soon we’ll go to the woods again, 
and hunt some more birds with the kind of 
a gun that never hurts.” 

“Oh, won’t that be fun!” cried Hal. 
“ To see a bird take its own picture! ” 






CHAPTER VI 

THE WREN HOUSE 

When Daddy Blake finished work on 
his camera it was all ready to take a bird’s 
picture, or even make a bird do it himself. 
Into his pockets Mr. Blake put some bits 
of string, and other things. Then he 
said: 

“ Well, children, now we’ll have an- 
other try at finding Mab’s pet canary. 
We’ll go to the woods once more, hunting 
birds.” 

And you can imagine that Hal and Mab 
were very much delighted. They hurried 
along, hand in hand. Daddy following be- 
hind, carrying the camera. The way to 
the woods was across a little brook, where 
there was a bridge which Daddy Blake 
had built of logs and wood, so that it looked 
like a rustic bench for the lawn. Across 

71 


72 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

the brook, near the bridge, was a fallen 
tree that was a sort of bridge, too. Some- 
times Velvet, the black cat, ran across on 
the fallen log instead of going over the 
bridge. 

“ And that’s what I’m going to do 
now ! ” cried Hal. “ If Velvet can walk 
across on the log so can I.” 

“ Better not,” spoke Mr. Blake. “ The 
log is slippery, and Velvet has sharp claws 
which she can stick in to hold on by, but 
you have not.” 

But Hal had already run on ahead and 
started across the log. And, then, just 
what Daddy Blake feared would happen 
did happen. Hal began to slide and slip, 
for the log across the brook was wet and 
slippery. 

“Oh, Daddy! Oh, Mab!” cried the 
little boy. “I’m falling! I’m slipping!” 

He waved his hands in the air, trying to 
keep himself on the log, but he slipped far- 
ther and farther over until : 

“ Splash!” 

Hal was in the water, all of a sudden. 


The Wren House 73 

** Oh ! Oh 1 Oh I ” cried Mab, three times, 
as she saw her brother fall. 

“ He’s all right,” said Daddy Blake, 
laughing. “ The water isn’t deep, and it’s 
a warm day.” 

Hal had fallen in feet first, and as the 
brook was only over the tops of his shoes 
he was not much wet. Some water had 
splashed up on his waist, but that would 
soon dry in the sun. 

“ Now, Hal, you see what happened,” 
said Dady Blake. “ I told you that you 
had no claws, as Velvet has, to stick in the 
sharp log.” 

“ I — I wish I had claws, or paws — or — 
or something!” Hal said, looking down 
at his feet which he could see through the 
clear water, as it bubbled along over the 
mossy stones on the bottom of the brook. 

“ Next time you must cross on the 
bridge,” went on Mr. Blake. “ Run back 
to the house, Hal, and get on dry shoes 
and stockings. Mab and I will wait for 
you.” 

Hal waded out to shore and it was not 


74 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

long before he was back again, ready to go 
bird hunting. This time he crossed on the 
bridge. 

The children, with Daddy Blake, were 
soon in the woods, and while Hal and Mab 
looked all around, hoping they might 
catch a sight of Dickie, Mr. Blake began 
searching for something else. 

“ What are you looking for? ” asked 
Hal. 

“ A scratchy, briar bush,” answered his 
father. 

“Why, how funny!” laughed Mab. 
“ You don’t want to be scratched; do you, 
Daddy? ” 

“ No, but I am looking for the kind of 
a bird that loves to build its nest in a briar 
bush better than anywhere else, and if I 
find the bush I’m pretty sure to find the 
bird.” 

“ What kind of a bird is it? ” asked Hal. 

Just then through the woods there 
sounded a call like : 

“ Mew-ay ! Mew-ay ! Mew-ay I ” 

“ Oh, it’s a cat crying ! ” exclaimed Mab. 


The Wren House 


75 


“ No, it’s a catbird,” said Mr. Blake, 
“though it does sound like a lost kitten 
with a big voice. Listen and you’ll hear 
another song from the same bird.” 

And Hal and Mab heard a trill that 
sounded like : 

“ Zu-utt! Zu-utt! Calico! Calico! Hey! 
Teely-teely-teely ! Hey ! Diddle-dee ! ” 

“ Oh, what a nice, funny song! ” cried 
Mab. And then again sounded: 

“ Mew-ay ! Mew-ay ! Mew-ay ! ” 

“ That isn’t so pretty,” spoke Daddy 
Blake. “ But we know the catbirds are 
here, so I’ll see if I can get one to take its 
own picture. There must be several nests 
in this briar patch, so I will set the camera 
near by,” and Mr. Blake pointed out a 
bush that was all a tangle of vines and 
brairs, in which the catbird loves to build 
its nest. 

Mr. Blake found a smooth, open place 
on the ground in the woods near the briar 
bush. The sun shone on it through the 
openings in the leafy branches of the trees. 

“ To take pictures in the woods you 


76 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

must have a good light,” explained Daddy 
Blake. ” This place will be very good if 
we can get the catbirds to come to it.” 

“ How are you going to make them? ” 
asked Hal. “ Are you going to make a 
noise like a little kitten? ” 

“ No,” answered his father, “ for, 
though the bird is named after a cat, it is 
only because one of its songs sounds that 
way. A catbird would really be afraid of 
a cat.” 

“ But not afraid of Velvet,” Mab said. 
“ For she would not hurt any bird.” 

“ Well, maybe not,” said Daddy Blake. 
“ But this is how I am going to try to make 
a bird take its own picture. I am going 
to fasten two or three strings to the shut- 
ter of the camera. If any one of the strings 
is pulled whoever pulls it will have their 
picture taken, if they stand in front of the 
camera’s lens, or glass eye. And I hope 
a catbird will pull one of the strings.” 

“ So do I,” said Hal. “ But how are you 
going to get the bird to do it. Daddy? ” 

” By putting on the other end of the 


The Wren House 


77 


string something that the bird likes to eat. 
I have brought along some bread, a bit of 
meat and some mulberries, that I picked 
from the tree in our garden. Catbirds, 
and many other birds, are very fond of 
mulberries.” 

“ I know about mulberries ! ” cried 
Mab. “ I learned it in school. Silk worms 
eat the leaves of mulberry trees.” 

“ That’s right,” said Daddy Blake. 
“ But birds like to eat the berries instead 
of the leaves.” 

The children watched while Mr. Blake 
fastened a little cluster of mulberries on 
one string, tied a bit of meat to a second 
and a piece of bread to a third cord. Then 
the strings were laid along the ground, 
each one being fastened to the shutter of 
the camera. 

“ Now we’ll hide in the bushes,” said 
Daddy Blake, “ and watch to see if a cat- 
bird will come down and take his own pic- 
ture.” 

The cries of the birds had stopped while 
Mr. Blake was fixing the camera, and lay- 


78 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

ing straight the strings. But now, as h0 
and the children hid themselves in the 
bushes, where they could see the picture 
machine, they again heard the calls: 

“ Mew-ay ! Mew-ay ! Mew-ay ! ” 

“ Oh, I hope one comes down to get the 
piece of meat, or a berry, and takes its 
photograph ! ” whispered Hal. 

“ Hush ! ” said Mab, putting her little 
finger over her brother’s lips. 

Then they waited. Pretty soon there 
was a flutter among the leaves of the trees 
and a large bird, with a long black bill, and 
sort of slate-gray feathers, fluttered down 
to the ground. He looked all around, his 
head first on one side and then on the other, 
his bright eyes seeming to snap and 
twinkle. He looked first at the bit of 
bread, then at the meat and last at the mul- 
berries. It was some time before he had 
seen such a feast as that. How anxiously 
Daddy Blake, Mab and Hal waited. 

Then the catbird hopped over toward 
the bit of meat. He looked all about, to 
make sure it was safe, and then he grabbed 


The Wren House 


79 

the bit in his bill and pulled it. Of course 
he pulled the string, too, and the camera 
went : 

“ Click!” 

“Good!” whispered Daddy Blake, 
softly. “ He has taken his picture.” 

And so the catbird had. He had 
snapped the camera himself. He was 
startled when he heard that click, but he 
did not fly away. Pretty soon he began 
picking at the bit of meat. Then Mab, 
who was getting tired of hiding behind 
the bushes, stepped on a dry twig, which 
broke with a snap louder than that of the 
camera shutter. 

With a flutter of his wings the catbird 
flew away, calling : 

“ Mew-ay ! Mew-ay ! Mew-ay ! ” 

“Oh, dear!” cried Mab. “I didn’t 
mean to scare him.” 

“ It’s all right,” said Daddy Blake. 
“ We have his picture, and now we will 
leave him to eat the rest of the things in 
peace.” He took the strings off the cam- 
era, leaving the bread and berries on the 


8o Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

ground, and soon the catbirds had eaten 
them all up. 

“ Catbirds are very friendly,” said 
Daddy Blake, “ and you can partly tame 
them. They will sometimes eat out of your 
hand, and they like almost the same things 
chickens like. Of course, they like to fly 
up in a cherry tree, and eat cherries, but 
we can’t blame them for that, as they also 
eat many bugs and worms that, otherwise, 
would kill the vegetables in the garden. 

“ Catbirds are very good to one an- 
other, too. If you disturb the nest of one 
all the other catbirds living nearby will 
join in such loud cries that you will be glad 
to run away to be quiet. And if the father 
and mother catbirds should be killed, 
leaving little birds in the nest, some other 
mother catbird would adopt them, feeding 
and caring for them with her own little 
ones, until the orphans were big enough to 
get along by themselves.” 

“ I like catbirds,” said Mab. 

“ So do I,” spoke Hal. “ Fm glad 
Daddy has a picture of one.” 


The Wren House 8i 

That night, after a long tramp through 
the woods and over the fields, Daddy Blake 
printed some pictures of the catbird who 
took his own photograph. 

There he was, in the very act of picking 
at the bit of meat, just as the children, hid- 
den in the bushes, had seen him. He 
seemed almost alive in the photograph. 

For several days after this Daddy Blake 
took Hal and Mab hunting other birds, 
getting a number of pictures of them and 
their nests. Every time she went to the 
woods, or over the fields, Mab would look 
for Dickie, but, though she saw many yel- 
low birds, none of them was her pet, sing- 
ing canary. 

One day Hal and Mab saw their father 
out in the barn nailing some strips of bark 
on a little box, in one end of which was a 
little, round hole. 

“ What are you making. Daddy,” 
asked Mab, “ another picture machine? ” 

“ No, I’m making a house.” 

“ Oh, a play-house or a doll-house? ” 


82 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

asked Mab, as she watched her brother Hal 
playing with Roly-Poly. 

“ This is to be a wren house,” said Mr. 
Blake. 

“Oh, I know! A wren is a bird I ” cried 
Mab, clapping her hands. “ I read a piece 
in the school-book about J ennie Wren. Is 
she coming to live in that little house, 
Daddy? ” 

“ Well, Jennie Wren, or some of her 
friends, I hope,” Daddy Blake said. 
“ Now come out and we’ll put the house 
up on a pole in the yard, and then we’ll 
see what happens.” 


CHAPTER yil 


FRIGHTENED CHICKENS 

Hal and Mab followed Daddy Blake 
out in the yard. At one end there was an 
old tree, which had died many years ago, 
the bark having fallen from it. The chil- 
dren’s father had trimmed off the branches, 
sawed the top square and planted some 
yines at the foot, so that now they were 
twined around this queer post, almost to 
the top. 

“ There is where we shall put our little 
house for the wrens,” said Mr. Blake, “ on 
top of the post-tree.” 

“ Aren’t you going to put any furniture 
in the little house for the birds? ” Mab 
wanted to know. 

“ I guess the wrens will bring their own 
furniture when they move in,” said Daddy 
Blake. “ They don’t need much, just some 

83 


84 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

little twigs, some bits of feathers, perhaps 
a wisp of hay from the field, and their 
house is furnished,” 

“ They don’t have to have pianos and 
chairs and tables and dishes and all things 
like that ; do they. Daddy? ” asked Hal. 

” No, indeed. A bird’s life is very 
simple. You will soon see two wrens set- 
ting up housekeeping in this little house, 
I hope.” 

“ But can they get in such a little front 
door? ” Mab wanted to know, as she put 
her chubby finger through the round hole 
in the end of the box, from which the bird 
house was made. The round role was just 
the size of a silver quarter of a dollar — 
in fact, Mr. Blake had used a quarter to 
mark a round circle, which he cut out to 
make the hole. 

“ Oh, that door is plenty large enough 
for wrens,” he said to the children. “ If 
I made it any larger the English sparrows 
would crowd in, and drive out the wrens. 
A sparrow cannot get in this little 
hole.” 


Frightened Chickens 85 

“ And what are the even littler holes up 
near the roof of the house? ” asked Mab, 
pointing to them. 

“ Oh, those are to let in fresh air,” said 
Mr. Blake. “ A bird must have fresh air 
in his house just as we must. Of course, 
birds that build nests live in the air all the 
while, but wrens are different.” 

Climbing up on a step ladder, Mr. Blake 
fastened the wren house on top of the old 
tree. Then Hal and Mab sat on a bench 
in the garden, and watched the little box, 
covered with bits of bark. 

“ Maybe my Dickie bird will come back 
and live in this house,” said Mab. 

“ I’m afraid your bird would be too 
large to get in,” her father answered. 
“ You will have to forget about Dickie, I 
fear. He will not come back now, for I 
think he has been gone too long.” 

“ Well, I’ll never forget him,” Mab said, 
“ but I will love other birds, too.” 

“ Daddy, I don’t believe any wrens are 
ever coming to live in the nice house you 
made for them,” said Mab that evening 


86 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

when she and Hal had spent most of the 
day in the garden watching the box on the 
post. 

“ Oh, you must give them time,” her 
father answered. “ The wrens have just 
begun house-hunting. They’ll be here 
soon, I think.” 

It was two or three days after this when 
Hal and Mab were in the kitchen, eating 
— not bread and honey like the king in 
Mother Goose, but bread and jam — it was 
while the children were eating this that 
Daddy Blake called to them : 

“ Hal ! Mab ! Come out quickly. The 
wrens have come ! ” 

Out rushed the little ones. Perched on 
the roof of the little house was a tiny, 
brown bird, singing away at the top of his 
voice, flittering his wings and tail, and 
turning his head first on one side and then 
the other, looking all about with his bright 
eyes. 

“ Oh, Daddy ! Do you think she’ll make 
her nest there? ” asked Mab, eagerly. 

“ That is the papa bird,” said Mr. Blake. 


Frightened Chickens 87 

“ He generally comes along first, and if 
he likes the house he begins to furnish it 
by piling it full of sticks, feathers, hay and 
other things of which nests are made. 
Then he brings his wife, the mother bird, 
and she has to pull out about half what he 
has put in for he has the place so crowded 
up that there isn’t room for her to lay her 
eggs.” 

“ Oh, won’t it be fun watching the 
wrens? ” cried Hal, in delight. 

“ It surely will,” said his sister. 

The papa wren was singing away at a 
great rate. Suddenly he stopped and flew 
away. 

“ Oh, he’s gone ! ” cried Mab, sadly. 
“ He’s gone.” 

“ Only to get something for the house, I 
think,” said her father. “ He’ll be back in 
a little while.” 

And so it happened. Pretty soon, back 
came flying the tiny brown bird, and in 
his bill was a feather he had found some- 
where. He perched on the little front 
porch Mr. Blake had made near the round 


88 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

hole in the box, and, looking inside as 
though making sure the house would be a 
good place to live, in hopped the tiny wren 
with his feather. 

“ Now he will be very busy furnishing 
his house,” said Daddy Blake. And the 
wren was. As the children watched he 
flew away and came back with a small twig 
and, a little later, he brought more feathers 
and some dried grass. 

“ Oh, I wish we could see inside ! ” said 
Mab. 

“ I can’t let you now, but when the wrens 
raise their family of little ones, and fly 
away then I’ll take the top off the box and 
let you see the nest inside,” promised 
Daddy Blake. 

The next day, when Hal and Mab, after 
their breakfast, ran out in the yard, they 
saw another little brown bird with the first 
one. Both were singing away, and flitter- 
ing here and there about the little house. 

“The mamma wren has come!” said 
Daddy Blake. “ Now you will see some 
busy times.” 


Frightened Chickens 89 

Hal and Mab did. Here and there flew 
the birds after different things with which 
to build their nest — sticks, feathers, soft 
grass and tiny twigs. Just as Daddy Blake 
had said, the papa wren put too much stuff 
in the tiny house, and had to pull some of 
it out again. J ennie W ren helped him, and 
oh ! how anxiously he watched lest perhaps 
she might hurt herself by doing too much 
housework. The wrens were busy for 
several days, flying here and there, and 
how Mr. Wren did sing! 

“ He sings almost as nice as my Dickie 
used to,” said Mab. 

“ He must be very happy,” spoke Hal, 
and I think he was. 

After a while the wrens seemed to have 
their nest made to suit them. Mrs. Wren 
was not seen so often now, but Mr. Wren 
was as busy as ever, singing all day long. 
Every day Hal and Mab would watch the 
wren house. They wished they could look 
in and see the little pink, chocolate spotted 
eggs which Daddy Blake said were in the 
nest, but this could not be done. 


90 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ You would frighten the mamma wren 
if you did that, and she might fly at you 
and pick you,” said Daddy Blake. 

“ Wouldn’t she be afraid to fly at us? ” 
asked Mab. 

“No indeed. A mother wren is very 
brave when she is setting on her eggs to 
warm them, so the little birds will hatch. 
If a sparrow or other bird tries to get in her 
house — Oh, look there ! ” suddenly cried 
Daddy Blake. “ There’s a sparrow now, 
trying to get in the wren house to build her 
nest.” 

A sparrow was perched in front of Jen- 
nie Wren’s door. 

“ But she can’t get in, can she. Daddy? ” 
asked Hal. 

“ No. The hole isn’t large enough. But 
watch what the wren does ! ” 

As the children looked the mother wren 
suddenly came to her front door just as if 
the sparrow had rang the bell. And the 
mother wren ruffled up her feathers, 
spread out her tiny tail and flew right at 
the bigger sparrow, picking at her and 


Frightened Chickens 91 

scolding at the top of her voice, just as if 
she were saying : 

“ Now you get right away from here, 
Mrs. Sparrow ! The idea of you coming 
around trying to get in my house I Be off 1 
Go away with you ! ” 

“ Cheep ! Cheep ! ” cried the surprised 
sparrow, and, with her feathers all awry, 
away she flew. 

“ She won’t go near that house again ! ” 
laughed Daddy Blake. “ Mrs. Wren 
drove her off.” 

The little wren stood in her front door, 
looking out for two or three minutes, 
scolding away in her shrill voice, and then, 
as though she felt sure the sparrow had 
gone for good, back she went to cover her 
eggs. For if, after the little birds start to 
hatch, the eggs get cold the little birds will 
die. 

Hal and Mab watched the wren house 
until, one day, they saw some tiny baby 
birds hop out. And what fun it was to 
watch the papa and mamma birds teach 
their little children to fly. The wrens are 


92 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

good birds to have on the farm, for they 
eat many bugs and worms that would, if 
they got the chance, spoil the vegetables 
in the garden. 

All summer the wrens stayed in the 
house Daddy Blake had built for them, un- 
til it was time to fly away to the warm 
South. 

“ Where are you going to take us to- 
day, Daddy? ” asked Hal one morning, as 
he and Mab saw Mr. Blake come out on 
the front porch where they were playing. 

“ Oh, we’ll go for a walk and look for 
more birds,” he said. 

“ That will be nice ! ” exclaimed Mab. 
“ Maybe I’ll find my Dickie bird, now.” 

“ Will you take the cage along? ” asked 
Hal. 

“ I think not,” Mr. Blake said. “ It is 
too much to carry on a long walk, and I am 
afraid, after all, we would not find 
Dickie.” 

“ Well, we’ll have fun, just going walk- 
ing with you, Daddy,” said Hal, “ won’t 
we, Mab? ” 


Frightened Chickens 93 

“ Yes, Hal.” 

And, hand in hand, the children went 
along to the woods with Daddy Blake. 

They saw many birds, and Mr. Blake 
took some pictures of them and their nests, 
with his camera. They walked on throu gh 
the woods, and, after a while, came to a 
farm yard. 

In the yard were a number of chickens, 
and some mother hens with little baby 
chickens following them around. All at 
once one of the hens made a queer sound 
in her throat. And, as she did so the other 
chickens did the same thing. 

Then a big rooster gave a loud crowing 
call, and flapped his wings. Hal and Mab 
saw the little chickens run under the wings 
of the mother hen, while some half-grown 
chickens scurried under the bushes. 

“ Why, the chickens are frightened,” 
cried Hal, in surprise. 

“ What makes them? ” asked Mab. 

“ I think they must have seen a hawk up 
in the air, ready to pounce down on some 
of them,” answered Mr. Blake. “ Yes, 


94 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

there he is,” and the children’s father 
pointed to a big bird flapping his wings 
up in the air over the hen yard. 

All at once the bird seemed to fold up 
its wings, and then, straight and swift, it 
shot downward. 

“ The hawk is going to try to get a 
chicken!” cried Mr. Blake. “Watch 
him!” 

Faster and faster down swooped the 
hawk. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE HANGING NEST 

With a harsh cry the hawk tried to 
strike with his sharp claws a half grown 
chicken, that had not known enough to 
hide under a bush, Or else it had come out, 
thinking the hawk had gone. Right down 
on top of the chicken pounced the hawk, 
but before it could flap its wings and rise 
in the air again with the prize, the biggest 
rooster in the yard came running toward 
the hawk. 

With a loud “ Cock-a-doodle-do ! ” the 
rooster sprang at the hawk with his feet, 
on which were sharp spurs, like thorns on 
a bramble briar bush. 

“ Oh, the rooster is going to fight the 
hawk! ’’cried Hal. “Look!” 

“ Yes, that’s what he is going to do,” said 
Mr. Blake. “He wants to drive the hawk 
away, and save the chicken.” 

95 


96 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

And that is what the rooster did. Strik- 
ing at the hawk with his feet and wings, 
picking at him with his bill, the rooster so 
beat and frightened the hawk that it let go 
of the chicken. 

Then with a great flapping of its wings 
up rose the hawk in the air again, just as 
the farmer came running out with a 
gun. 

“ Bang ! ” went the gun, as the man fired 
at the hawk. 

“ Oh, he shot him ! He shot the hawk ! ” 
cried Hal. 

“ No, I only just touched him — made a 
few feathers fly,” said the farmer. “ I wish 
I had hit him, for that hawk, or one like it, 
has taken a lot of my chickens of late.” 

“ The rooster drove him off this time,” 
Daddy Blake said. “ He is a brave roos- 
ter.” 

“ Yes, and that isn’t the first fight he’s 
had with a hawk.” 

“ Do all hawks take chickens? ” asked 
Mab, as she and her brother looked at the 
flying bird which was now only a speck in 


97 


The Hanging Nest 

the sky. He must have made up his mind 
to get his chicken dinner somewhere else. 

“ No, not all hawks steal chickens,” said 
Daddy Blake, “ but all hawks like to eat 
meat, and if they can’t catch rats, mice or 
frogs they might take a chicken, though 
the one we just saw, which is called 
Cooper’s hawk as well as a chicken hawk, 
and the big blue-darter, is the sort of a bird 
that lives almost entirely on chickens or 
ducks, and on birds of the woods and fields. 

“ This Cooper’s hawk nearly always 
gets something to eat as we saw it try just 
now. It swoops down out of the air, and 
tries to stick its sharp claws, or talons, in 
the back of a chicken, or some bird. Then 
it carries it away, or it may kill it and partly 
pull it apart on the spot, if it is too big a 
prize with which to fly away. Farmers do 
not like these hawks, and shoot them as 
often as they can, for these hawks do much 
harm.” 

“ I don’t know of any hawks that do 
good,” said the farmer, who had asked Mr. 
Blake and the children to come and sit 


pS Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

down on his porch, and drink some milk. 

“ The red-tailed hawk, which is also 
wrongly called a chicken hawk, does 
good,” said Mr. Blake. “ They eat rats, 
mice and insects, and you know rats, mice 
and insects do more harm than good.” 

“ Yes, they do,” admitted the farmer, 
“ and if the red-tailed hawk eats them I say 
give us more red-tailed hawks. But I 
thought they took chickens, too.” 

“ They might, once in a while, if very 
hungry,” spoke Mr. Blake. “ But they do 
not do half the damage that is done by the 
kind of bird you just shot at.” 

“ I’m glad to know it. After this I’ll 
look first to see if a hawk has a red tail, 
and if it has I won’t aim my gun at 
him.” 

“ Also be kind to red-shouldered 
hawks,” said Mr. Blake, “ for though, 
once in a while, they may take a chicken, 
they eat so many rats and mice that you 
farmers ought to protect these good 
hawks.” 

“ I will, and I’m glad to learn something 


99 


The Hanging Nest 

new,” spoke the man who had shot at the 
chicken hawk. “ For rats and mice are 
certainly a pest.” 

“ I had a cat and she caught a mouse,” 
said Hal, thinking it was time he spoke. 

“ And I had a canary bird,” began Mab, 
“ and— ” 

“ And did the cat get it? ” asked the 
farmer. “ That’s too bad! I know some 
cats do catch birds.” 

“ No, a cat didn’t get Dickie,” Mab ex- 
plained. “ He flew out of his cage, and we 
haven’t found him since.” 

“ I’m sorry for that,” the farmer went 
on. “ And if I see anything of your 
Dickie I’ll try and get him for you.” 

“ Thank you,” said Mab, politely. 

Then Daddy Blake, bidding the farmer 
good-bye, went on with Hal and Mab 
hunting for more birds. 

“ Oh, here is a little brook, Daddy I ” 
called Hal, as they came to a place where 
water was bubbling along over green, 
mossy stones. “ If we had a hook and line 
we could fish.” 


100 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ And maybe we could catch a gold- 
fish,” laughed Mab. 

“ I don’t believe there are any goldfish 
in this brook,” said Mr, Blake, “ but there 
is a chap who is going to do some fishing, 
and he has neither a pole, line or hook; nor 
does he need bait.” 

“ Then he can’t catch any fish ! ” said 
Hal, who thought he knew, because once 
his father had taken him and Mab fishing, 
as I have told you in a book before this one. 

“ Where is the fisherman. Daddy? ” 
asked Mab, looking about. 

“ He isn’t exactly a fisher-w< 2 «,” said the 
children’s father. “ But there he sits, on 
the limb of that tree, waiting for a bite. 
He is a kingfisher.” 

“ Where? I don’t see any one. Daddy ! ” 
cried Hal. “ Does he fish for kings — like 
the king who was in the parlor, eating 
bread and honey? ” 

“ No, he isn’t that kind, either,” Mr. 
Blake answered. “ There he sits on the 
limb of that tree,” and he pointed through 
the woods to where a bird, about a foot 


The Hanging Nest loi 

long, was perched on a dead branch. The 
bird’s feathers were a sort of grayish blue, 
and he had a band of blue feathers across 
his chest, like a sash. On his head he wore 
a crest of feathers, just as some ladies do 
in their hats, and this bird’s bill was long 
and sharp — longer and sharper even than 
a woodpecker’s. 

“ He has sharp claws, too,” said Daddy 
Blake, “ as he needs them to hold the fish 
he catches.” 

“ And does a bird really catch fish? ” 
asked Hal. 

“ Oh, yes. Don’t you remember the fish- 
hawks down at the seashore? Well, this 
bird does the same thing, only he doesn’t 
go down to the ocean. Watch him now ! ” 

As Hal and Mab looked, they saw the 
big bird suddenly dart down off the tree 
limb. Straight for the water he went, and 
partly under it, for a kingfisher has oily 
feathers, like a duck’s and he does not mind 
getting wet. 

Into the water this bird splashed, and 
when he came out he had a fish in his bill. 


102 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ Oh, the fish is alive ! ” cried Hal. “ See 
it wiggle, Daddy I ” 

“ Yes, a kingfisher only catches live 
fish,” said Mr. Blake. “ Now watch him 
eat it.” 

The fish was trying to get out of the 
bird’s claws, but the kingfisher held it too 
tightly, though the bird had to take his 
catch to a near-by, flat rock, where he 
quickly quieted the fish by striking it with 
the strong bill. 

“ Why, I never would have thought a 
bird could catch a fish,” said Mab. “ Oh, 
and now see him eat it ! ” 

The kingfisher had taken hold of the 
fish, head first in his bill, and now he was 
beginning to swallow it. Wiggling and 
twisting himself about, to make his dinner 
go down, the kingfisher slowly swallowed 
the fish. He did not wait for it to be 
cooked, or anything like that. 

“ Why, the fish is almost as big as the 
bird! ” cried Hal. “ He can never swal- 
low it! ” 

“Yes, I think he can,” said Daddy 


103 


The Hanging Nest 

Blake. “ Those birds’ stomachs seem to 
stretch, and get larger, so they can take 
in a very big fish. I once saw one who 
had eaten such a large fish that he had to 
leave part of the tail sticking out for a 
time.” 

“ Where is a kingfisher’s nest? ” asked 
Hal. 

“ They are very hard to find,” his father 
told him. “ Nearly always the nest is just 
a hole in a sandy, or clay, bank. The papa 
and mamma birds make a tunnel about six 
feet long in the bank. 

“ At the far end of this hole the mother 
bird lays her eggs on a bundle of grass, 
and, after a while, the little birdies come 
out.” 

“ How many? ” Hal wanted to know. 

“ Oh, sometimes only four, and again as 
many as eight. When the little kingfishers 
are hatched they do not look at all like their 
father or mother, for they have no feathers 
on at all. But after a while the feathers 
come out, even the bristly top-knot, which 
looks so queer in the big birds.” 


104 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

By this time the kingfisher had finished 
his dinner. Away he went. But another 
one came along, and, perching on the 
same dead limb, soon took a dive down in 
the brook and came up with a small fish, 
with which he flew away. 

“ Where is he taking it? ” asked Hal. 

“ Oh, probably home to his wife or 
little ones. While the baby birds are small 
their fathers or mothers bring fish for them 
to eat. When the large birds get near the 
nest with a fish they give a loud call, and 
the little birds hurry to the front door, or 
the hole in the bank, to get the fish. Only 
one bird at a time can be fed, for they all 
eat their fish whole, just as the big birds 
do. And when one has been given his fish 
the others all run backward through their 
dirt tunnel to the end, and there they all 
cuddle up together to keep warm, and wait 
for the next call to dinner.” 

“ Tm tired of walking now,” said Hal, 
when they had gone on from the brook a 
little way. “ Oh, here’s a funny seat. I’m 
going to sit down in it.” And he pointed 


The Hanging Nest 105 

to where two trees grew close together in 
the shape of a letter V. “ I can sit down 
right between them,” Hal said, and he 
did. 

Mab and her father walked on a little 
farther, looking for some yellow violets 
that grew in the wood, and when they 
found them the little girl gathered a hand- 
ful. 

“ Well, shall we walk on a little 
farther? ” asked Mr. Blake, after a while. 
“ Are you rested, Hal? ” 

“ Yes, Daddy. Fm not so tired, now.” 

“ All right. Come on.” 

But Hal did not get up. Mab could 
see that he was trying to, but he still stayed 
there, sitting in the V shaped tree. 

“ Come on, Hal ! Come on ! ” she cried. 
“ Why don’t you come? ” 

“ I — I can’t ! ” answered the little boy, 
in a queer voice. 

“ Why? ” his father wanted to know. 

“ Because Fm stuck fast. I sat down be- 
tween these trees so hard that Fm caught, 
just like Roly-Poly was caught in the 


io6 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

sticky fly paper one day. Come and help 
me, Daddy! ” called Hal. 

Mr. Blake laughed, and so did Mab. 
Hal, though, only smiled, for he was not 
quite sure that he could get out. But he 
was not hurt, only it felt queer, he said af- 
terward, to be squeezed between two trees. 

“ I’ll get you loose,” said Mr. Blake, 
running over to Hal. Then Daddy 
pressed the two trees apart with his strong 
arms. This made the place where Hal was 
sitting a bit wider, so he could get up. 

“ I’ll never sit in a place like that again,” 
spoke Hal, as he brushed some bits of tree- 
bark off his knickerbockers. “ If you 
hadn’t been with me. Daddy, I might have 
had to stay here all night.” 

“ Oh, I would have come and found 
you,” said Mr. Blake, laughing. 

On and on they went through the woods, 
and soon they had come out on a road that 
led to their home. As they passed under a 
big elm tree, Hal looked up. 

“ Oh, what’s that? ” he asked his father. 


The Hanging Nest 107 

pointing. “ It looks just like a little bag, 
or hammock, hanging there.” 

“ It is a sort of hammock,” said Daddy 
Blake. “ That is a hanging nest.” 

“A hanging nest!” exclaimed Mab. 
“ How nice it must be for the baby birds 
to sleep in a cradle like that.” 

“ It is nice, when they don’t fall out, for 
then it is very hard for them to get back in 
again,” said Mr. Blake. 

“ What kind of a bird’s nest is it? ” asked 
Hal. 

“ That of a Baltimore oriole,” was the 
answer. 

“ Oh, I wish I could see one 1 ” cried 
Mab. 

“ I’ll try to rouse one up,” spoke Mr. 
Blake, and he began to whistle a loud, clear 
and sharp note. 


CHAPTER IX 


A BAD BIRD 

“ What are you doing that for, 
Daddy? ” asked Hal, “ Are you whistling 
for a dog to scare the birds? ” 

“ I am whistling to call the birds,” an- 
swered Mr. Blake, “ Please don’t ask me 
questions for a little while, Hal, as I can’t 
talk and whistle at the same time,” and 
Daddy laughed. 

Then Mr. Blake went on with his whis- 
tling, and Hal began making funny noises 
in his mouth. 

“ What are you trying to do, Hal? ” 
asked Mab. 

“ I was trying to do what Daddy said he 
couldn’t do — talk and whistle at the same 
time,” said her brother, “ But Daddy was 
right — I can’t do it.” 

io8 


A Bad Bird 


109 


“ Of course not! ” laughed Mab. “ You 
can’t do that any more than you can be 
asleep and awake at the same time.” 

“ Well, Roly-Poly sometimes sleeps with 
one eye open and the other eye shut,” Hal 
said, “ and maybe some day I can whistle 
and talk at the same time.” 

All this while Mr. Blake was whistling 
away, clearly and sharply, and pretty soon, 
up in the tree near the nest, there came an 
answer. 

“ Here is our oriole, children! ” cried 
Daddy Blake. “ See him up in the tree,” 
and he pointed to a bird with orange and 
black colored feathers perched near the 
hanging nest. The oriole looked down 
and whistled several times. 

“ I guess he thought I was a bird friend 
of his,” said Mr. Blake. “ Orioles will 
often come if you whistle the same as they 
do, just as a dog will sometimes bark if he 
hears you give a make-believe bark at 
him.” 

“ I wish he’d go down in the nest,” Mab 
said, and, just as if the bird heard what 


no Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

she said, down he flew into the hanging 
cradle. 

“ The mother oriole is the best builder 
of nests of any bird I know,” said Mr. 
Blake. “ From bits of cloth, string, thread, 
grass and small roots of trees she weaves 
a regular bag which she fastens on the end 
of a swaying limb. Sometimes the nest 
will be seven inches deep, so you see it 
makes a very good bed, or cradle, for the 
little birds.” 

“ Don’t they ever fall out? ” asked Hal. 

“ Oh, yes, sometimes, when they are get- 
ting ready to learn to fly. When they do 
topple out of their nest the mother and 
father bird cannot lift them back into it 
again, as your mother, or I, could lift you 
back in your crib if you fell out on the 
floor,” said Daddy Blake. 

“ What do they do? ” asked Mab. 

“ Well, the old birds flutter about the 
little fellow on the ground and make a 
great fuss to drive away any cats that may 
be about. And then, usually, after a while, 
the little bird manages to get over close to 


Ill 


A Bad Bird 

the trunk of the tree. With his sharp claws 
he can cling to the rough bark, and then 
he may get back in the nest. But it is hard 
work. Orioles are quite tame, and they 
like to live near houses. The little girl- 
birds begin, when quite small, to practice 
weaving their nests with bits of string and 
cloth.” 

“ There he is again! ” cried Mab, as the 
oriole flew out of the nest. “ Where is he 
going. Daddy, off down South? ” 

“ Oh, no. He won’t fly for the South 
until cold weather sets in up here. And 
when he does fly he will go all the way to 
Central America, where he spends his 
Winters.” 

“ That is a long way off ; isn’t it? ” asked 
Hal. 

“ Very far, yes. But birds can fly a long 
distance, though I suppose they stop to rest 
at night.” 

Mr. Blake whistled again, and once 
more the oriole answered him, coming 
back to flit among the tree branches as 
though looking for Daddy, the queer bird 


1 12 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

who could talk bird language, yet whom 
the oriole could not see. 

“ I mustn’t plague him any more,” said 
Mr. Blake. “ Come now, children, we’ll 
be getting home, as it is almost supper 
time.” 

“ I wish my Dickie would come home to 
his supper,” said Mab, with a little sigh, 
but when, after she reached home, she 
looked in the cage, her nice canary was 
not there. 

It was a day or so after this that, when 
Hal and Mab were playing with Roly- 
Poly on the porch, Aunt Lolly came out 
with some cookies she had baked. 

“ Here, Hal and Mab,” she said. “ You 
will like these. They are made with raisins 
the way you always want them.” 

“ Good! ” cried Hal. 

“ Thank you,” said Mab and then Hal 
said “ Thank you,” also. He was so anx- 
ious to get the cookie that he forgot this 
part, at first. 

“ Are you ready for another walk to look 
for new birds? ” asked Mr. Blake, as he 


A Bad Bird 


1 13 

came home early from the office that after- 
noon. 

“ Oh, we just love it ! ” cried Hal. 
“ Thank you for taking us, Daddy ! ” You 
see he did not forget this time. 

As Daddy Blake, with the children, 
started down the street their uncle called 
to them: 

“ Wait a minute and I’ll give you two 
pennies ! ” 

“ All right. Uncle Pennywait ! ” laughed 
Mab. “We’ll wait.” 

So they waited, got their pennies to 
spend for lollypops, and then they went on 
with their father. 

“ Oh, see ! ” suddenly cried Mab, point- 
ing to a bush. “ It looks just like a bit of 
fire in there, Daddy.” 

“ Fire? Where? ” asked Mr. Blake, 
and when Mab pointed and Hal, too, saw 
a dash of something very red, Daddy 
said: 

“ That isn’t fire, Mab. It was the flash 
of a bird’s scarlet wings.” 

“ Oh, what a lovely red it was 1 ” cried 


1 14 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

the little girl. “ It looked just like an Eas- 
ter egg. It is really a bird? ” 

“ Yes, there he is,” and Daddy Blake 
pointed to where a bird, with black wings 
and tail, but with the rest of his feathers a 
brilliant red, was perched on a branch. 

“ That is a scarlet tanager,” went on 
Daddy Blake. “ I have not seen one in a 
numbers of years, though there used to be 
a great many of them here.” 

“ What happened to them? ” asked Hal. 

“ Oh, men and boys killed them, some- 
times to get the feathers to put on the hats 
of ladies.” 

“ Oh, to kill such a pretty bird as that! ” 
cried Mab, as the scarlet tanager flitted 
about in the bush near them. “ I’m never 
going to wear birds’ feathers on my hat 
when I grow up.” 

“ I wouldn’t either,” spoke her father. 
“ Pretty ribbon, or velvet, is just as nice 
and no birds have to be killed to get those 
trimmings. This bird lives down in the 
tropics, where it is very hot, and he and 
his mates only come up here in Winter. 


A Bad Bird 


1 15 

So it seems a shame to shoot him when he 
does come. But that is what happened and 
that’s why there are so few scarlet tanagers 
now. 

“ The tanagers are of many kinds, but 
only two or three come up here to visit us. 
They can stand very little cold, and often 
when they are on a visit here, and it gets 
chilly in May, many of the tanagers die. 
Then many others are killed as they fly 
against the glass lanterns of the lighthouses 
along the coast. But if you were to see this 
same tanager a little later in the season, 
when his wife has hatched out the little 
birds, he would look much different than 
he does now,” said Daddy Blake. 

“ Why? ” Hal wanted to know. 

“ Because his red feathers all drop out, 
and in their place come olive green ones, 
until when Winter is here he has olive and 
black feathers, instead of scarlet and black. 
Then, in the spring again, when he and his 
mate wish to raise another family, his red 
feathers grow out again.” 

“ Oh, I know ! ” cried Mab. “ He grows 


ii6 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

his red feathers again when he wants to 
look pretty to his wife.” 

“ I guess that’s it,” said Mr. Blake. 
“ Nearly all the papa-birds have brighter 
feathers than the mamma-birds. The tan- 
ager lives on bugs and insects which he 
catches in the tops of tall trees, but he 
builds his nest in a low bush, sometimes not 
higher than your head from the ground. 
Birds do queer things, and we cannot al- 
ways know why.” 

The scarlet tanager fluttered about, now 
and then giving a sort of whistling song, 
a little like the orioles’ notes. 

“ If I had him in a cage with my nice 
yellow bird it would make a pretty pic- 
ture,” said Mab. 

“ But I’m afraid the tanager would not 
like it in a cage,” Mr. Blake said. Cana- 
ries do not seem to mind it so much, but 
other birds do.” 

Daddy Blake and the children walked 
on a little farther, and pretty soon they 
came to a bush, in which Mab spied a 
bird’s nest. 


A Bad Bird 


117 

“ Oh, what a funny nest ! ” she cried. 
“ It has three stories, like a little house! 
Look, Daddy! ” 

Daddy Blake looked. Then he reached 
in and, lifting out of the nest an egg, he 
dropped it on the ground, where it broke. 
“ Oh, Daddy ! You spilled the egg ! ” cried 
Mab. 

“ Yes, I wanted to,” her father said. 
“ That was the egg of a bad bird, and if it 
hatched out it would kill some good birds.” 

“ What kind of a bird’s egg was it? ” 
asked Hal. 

” That was the egg of a cowbird, Hal.” 

“ Oh, would a cow come out of that 
egg? ” asked Mab. 

“ No, but the bird that might have come 
out of it would perch on a cow’s back to 
get bugs and insects, and that’s why it is 
called a cowbird. That isn’t why it is a 
bad bird, though, or why I smashed the 
egg. I’ll tell you about that part of it,” said 
Daddy. 









CHAPTER X 


THE GEESE PICTURES 

Hal and Mab looked down at the 
broken egg. There was no sign of a bird 
in it, and it seemed only like a small hen’s 
egg, which, sometimes, the cook dropped 
on the kitchen floor. 

“ If this egg had hatched,” said Daddy 
Blake, “ there would have come out of it 
a bird a little smaller than the robin, and, 
if it should have happened to be a boy- 
birdie he would grow up with shiny, green- 
ish-black feathers on his body and wings, 
and brown ones on his head. If it was to 
be a girl-bird the feathers would not be so 
bright. The mother cowbird, after she 
and her husband have spent some time in 
the meadows, picking bugs, ants and other 
little creatures off the backs of the bossies, 
looks for a place to lay her eggs. But she 


The Geese Pictures 119 

doesn’t do as the other birds do, and make 
a nest for herself.” 

She doesn’t? ” asked Hal, in surprise. 
“ Does she lay the eggs on the roof of a 
house the way the night-hawk does? ” 

“ No, she doesn’t do that. But the 
mother cowbird looks around through the 
woods until she finds where another bird 
has made a nest for her eggs, and what does 
the cowbird do but put in one of her own 
eggs.” 

“ And then does she set on it, and hatch 
it? ” Mab wanted to know. 

“ Indeed she does not ! ” cried Daddy 
Blake. “ The cowbird is too lazy to make 
her own nest, and she is also too lazy to 
hatch her own eggs. She wants the other 
bird to do it.” 

“ And do they?” Hal asked. 

“ Sometimes they do, not knowing any 
better, and often when the cowbird is 
hatched it is so big that it smothers the 
other little birds in the nest, or makes them 
starve by eating all the food the mother 
bird brings. That’s why cowbirds are so 


120 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

bad — they cause the death of so many other 
birds which, if they had lived, would have 
eaten many bugs and worms that might 
spoil the farmer’s crops.” 

“ But doesn’t the other bird know when 
the cowbird has laid an egg in her nest? ” 
asked Mab, as she looked at the queer, 
three-storied nest she had seen in the 
bushes. 

“ Not always do other birds know the 
difference between their own eggs and 
those of the cowbird, though the difference 
to us is plain to be seen,” went on Daddy 
Blake. “ But the bird which built this nest 
often throws out the cowbird’s egg, so 
that it cracks. Or else it builds another 
bottom to the nest, covering up the cow- 
bird’s egg, and sometimes its own eggs, 
and starts in all over again. 

“ The bird that does this is called the 
yellow warbler, and is the same kind you 
thought was your yellow Dickie bird,” said 
Mab’s father. 

“ Does a yellow warbler live in this 
nest? ” asked Hal. 


The Geese Pictures 12 1 

“ Yes, and it is probably hiding in the 
bushes now, watching us,” went on Mr. 
Blake. “We will go away soon, so it may 
come back to the nest, and set on the eggs. 
But I want to show you how this yellow 
warbler has put three new bottoms in its 
nest, building it up higher each time, to 
stop the bad cowbird’s egg from hatch- 
ing.” 

“ Then three cowbirds must have laid 
eggs here,” spoke Mab. 

“ Yes, they did. Maybe almost as soon 
as the mother yellow warbler had finished 
making her nest, a cowbird, which was 
watching her chance, flew in and laid an 
egg, right in with the warbler’s eggs. The 
mother warbler saw this, and not being 
able to throw out the cowbird’s egg, she 
covered it over with another bottom. She 
did this three times, as you can see by the 
different parts of the nest, like a three- 
story house, as Mab called it.” 

“ The yellow warbler is a hard worker,” 
said Hal. 

“ She is,” answered his father. “ And 


122 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

that is why a cowbird picks out, more 
often than any other nest, the one built by 
a warbler. The mother cowbird knows 
the warbler will work hard to feed the baby 
cowbird, which will eat so much that the 
baby warblers will starve. 

“ But you see this warbler was smart, 
and would have nothing to do with the 
cowbird’s egg. So I thought I would help, 
her, and throw this last egg out myself, so 
the warbler would not have to build a 
fourth bottom to her nest to cover up the 
bad bird’s egg.” 

“ I’d like to see a cowbird — just to know 
how they look,” said Hal. 

“ Well, let’s go down to the meadow and 
maybe we can find one,” said Daddy 
Blake. 

Down to the meadow went Mr. Blake 
and the children. And there, perched on 
the back of a cow was one of the birds that 
are too lazy to build their own nests and 
hatch out their own babies. The bird was 
pecking around here and there on the 


The Geese Pictures 


123 

cow’s hide, finding little flies and other in- 
sects. 

“ That is about all the good a cowbird 
does,” said Mr. Blake, “ eating the bugs 
that would otherwise bite the cow.” 

“ I guess a cow is about the only one that 
likes a cowbird then,” said Mab. 

“ I think so,” Daddy Blake answered, 
with a laugh. “ Though I suppose all 
cowbirds like one another, the same as all 
lazy people are fond of one another.” 

“ I’m never going to be lazy,” said 
Hal. 

“ Nor I,” added his sister. 

“ Our dog, Roly-Poly, isn’t lazy, either,” 
Hal went on. “ You ought to see him 
chase his tail ! ” 

“ Yes, Roly is a busy little dog,” laughed 
Mr. Blake. 

“ I wish he would be busy enough to 
find Dickie for me,” spoke Mab. 
“ Wouldn’t it be nice if Roly was a bird 
dog, and would find my canary for me? ” 

“ It would be nice — too nice to be true. 
I’m afraid,” spoke Daddy Blake, smiling. 


124 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ We might get a cat and train her to 
hunt for Dickie,” Hal said. 

“ Oh, a cat would eat a bird, and I 
wouldn’t want my Dickie to be eaten,” re- 
marked Mab. “ I’d rather he would fly 
away, and never come back, than to have 
him eaten by a cat.” 

“ Yes, "so would I,” added Hal. 

The children, and Daddy Blake, walked 
away from the meadow where the cow- 
birds were fluttering about. Hal saw, a 
little way ahead of him, a bright red butter- 
fly, fluttering over some flowers. 

“ Oh, Mab ! ” cried the little boy. “ Let’s 
go see the butterfly eat honey from the 
flowers ! ” 

Hal started to run toward the brightly- 
winged insect, but his father caught him 
by the arm. 

“ Not so fast, little man ! ” exclaimed 
Daddy Blake. 

“ Why don’t you want me to go see the 
butterfly? ” asked Hal. “ Will it bite 
me? ” 

“ Oh, no,” answered Daddy Blake, “ but 


The Geese Pictures 


125 

near where the butterfly is fluttering is wet 
and swampy ground, and I don’t want you 
to get stuck in the mud, as you were stuck 
in the tree the other day.” 

“Mud; eh?” said Hal. “I guess I 
don’t want to run in it, either.” 

“ But we will go as close as we can,” 
went on Daddy Blake, “ and then walk 
up a little way where the trees make deeper 
shadows. For I think in there we may find 
a new kind of bird.” 

“ What kind? ” asked Mab, for she was 
writing down in a little book the names 
of the different birds, about which Daddy 
Blake had told her and Hal. “ What kind 
of a bird. Daddy? ” 

“ Well, you look and see if you can see 
any bird you haven’t seen before,” said 
the father. “ You must learn to use your 
eyes in hunting for birds, just as you did 
in hunting for flowers.” 

So Hal and Mab, with their bright eyes, 
looked up along the little stream, or brook, 
that flowed into the swamp, where the big 


126 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

trees made cool shadows. And Mab saw 
it first. 

“ Oh, it’s a big, blue bird! ” cried the 
little girl, “ and it only has one leg. 
Daddy I ” 

“ I see him, too I Where is his other 
leg? ” asked the little boy. 

He and Sister Mab, with Daddy Blake, 
were looking at a bird which was about 
four feet high, standing motionless in the 
water, down into which he was looking, 
his long bill pointed toward it. 

And suddenly, as the children watched, 
they saw the bird make a quick stroke 
with his bill — so quick it was that it seemed 
he scarcely moved. But then, all at once, 
Hal and Mab saw a fish in the bird’s beak 
— a fish with shiny, silver sides. 

Up into the air the bird tossed the fish, 
catching it head first as it came down, and 
then — why, the fish just seemed to slip 
down the long slender neck of the bird, 
which was standing on two legs, now. 

“ Oh, now it has two feet I ” cried Mab, 
greatly excited. “ Did the fish have the 


The Geese Pictures 127 

bird’s other leg, Daddy, and did the bird 
make the fish give it back? ” 

“ No, the bird had two legs all the 
while,” answered Mr. Blake. “ It just 
stood on one for a while, and drew the 
other up under its feathers to dry and warm 
it, perhaps. But the fish did not have it, 
and the fish is now part of the bird’s din- 
ner — down inside it.” 

“ I know what kind of a bird it is,” said 
Hal. “ It eats fish, so it must be a fish- 
hawk, or a kingfisher.” 

“ No, neither one,” Daddy Blake an- 
swered. “ You can see it doesn’t look at 
all like a kingfisher, for it is much larger. 
This bird is the great blue heron, and I 
have not seen one around here for years. 
Many of them have been shot, I am sorry 
to say, and for no use at all, as they are not 
good to eat. But we are lucky to have seen 
this heron. And still more lucky to watch 
him eat a fish, which he always swallows 
head first, as does a kingfisher.” 

“ Why do they do that? ” asked Mab. 

“ So the stickery, bony fins will fold 


128 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

backward, and not stick in the bird’s long 
neck. He has a very long neck, you see, 
almost as long as his legs,” said Daddy. 

“ What makes him have such long 
legs? ” asked Hal. 

“ Because,” answered his father, “ this 
bird, like others of the heron family, has to 
wade out in water to look for the fishes 
and frogs on which it mostly lives, though 
it will also eat insects. 

“ The heron will stand for hours, with 
never a motion, watching down in the 
water for a fish, or a frog, to swim near 
enough to be caught in the long bill. And 
then there happens what you just saw.” 

“ Oh, look ! ” cried Hal. “ He’s caught 
another fish ! ” 

And so the heron had. Stabbing its bill 
down in the water, it brought up another 
fish, which it swallowed whole and head 
first. Daddy Blake had his camera with 
him, and snapped a picture of the heron, 
whose feathers were a bluish gray in 
color. 

“ It is not often a heron stands out in 


The Geese Pictures 


129 


plain view as this one does,” said Mr. 
Blake. “ They like to hide away, or to 
stand in a shadowy, leafy place where 
there is some sort of color so nearly like 
that of themselves that your eye can 
scarcely see them.” 

“ There ! He’s gone ! ” suddenly cried 
Mab. “ I can’t see him any more.” 

“ Neither can I,” said Hal. 

“ But he is still there,” spoke Daddy 
Blake. “ He has just moved back a little, 
in front of that tangle of bushes. That is 
his way of hiding himself, though he is as 
ready as ever to get something to eat. 
Look, now he has something else.” 

The children saw a splash in the water. 
The heron had again stabbed his long bill 
into it, and this time he brought up, not a 
fish, but a wiggling snake. 

“ Oh, do herons eat snakes? ” asked 
Mab, in surprise. 

“ Indeed they do, and are very glad to 
get them. They like frogs, too,” said 
Daddy Blake. “ There, now he has really 
flown away,” and the children saw the 


130 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

beautiful big bird, his long legs trailing 
out behind him, fly over the trees. 

“ I guess he had enough dinner,” said 
Hal. 

“ Yes,” answered Daddy Blake. “ But 
no matter how much dinner the heron eats 
his thin legs will never be any fatter. They 
are not like your legs, Mab,” and he looked 
at his little girl’s chubby ones. “ Fat legs 
for children, thin ones for birds,” he said. 

“ Why is that? ” asked Mab. 

“ Because thin legs are not heavy, and a 
bird could not fly if it was too heavy. The 
ostrich has very big, thick and strong legs, 
and it cannot fly, thou gh it has wings. But 
the wings help it to run swiftly. An os- 
trich can run nearly as fast as a horse, and 
kick almost as hard.” 

“ Are there any ostriches around here. 
Daddy? ” asked Hal, as he looked at the 
great blue heron, which was now a mere 
speck in the sky. 

“ No, son. They have to live where the 
winters are warm, and that is in Africa, 


The Geese Pictures 131 

though some ostriches are raised in the 
warm parts of California. 

“ But come now, it is time we were get- 
ting home, for mother will be anxious 
about us. And I want to get ready to 
take some new kind of pictures.” 

“ What kind? ” Hal wanted to know. 

“ Geese pictures,” answered his father. 

“ There are lots of geese over in Mr. 
Watson’s yard,” said Mab. “ They hissed 
at me once.” 

“ I don’t want that kind of pictures,” 
said Mr. Blake. “ I want pictures of wild, 
Canadian geese. And to get them I shall 
have to build a little house in which we 
can hide with the camera, for the Canadian 
geese are very wild. They are late in fly- 
ing up North this year, but they ought to 
be along soon, now.” 

The next day, when Hal and Mab went 
out in the barn where they heard Daddy 
Blake pounding and sawing, they saw him 
at work on a big box that their new piano 
had come in. 


132 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ Oh, is that for us to play in? ” asked 
Hal, eagerly. 

“ Not right away, though you may have 
it for a play-house later. But now I am 
going to make something in which we can 
hide ourselves and, I hope, get some photo- 
graph pictures of the Canadian geese,” 
Daddy said. 

“Oh, what fun that will be!” cried 
Mab, clapping her hands. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE BUTCHER-BIRD 

Daddy Blake let the children peep in- 
side the piano box. He had cut out some 
little places that looked like windows, and 
inside the box were shelves. 

“What are you going to put on the: 
shelves? ” asked Mab. “ Is that the place 
for dishes? ” 

“ Well, you can use the shelves for that 
when you and Hal play house,” answered 
her father. “ But first we are going to use 
them for seats.” 

“ What are we going to sit in it for? ” 
Hal wanted to know. 

“ Because we cannot tell when the Cana- 
dian geese will come honking along to 
alight, I hope, near our pond to feed. If 
we stayed out in the open they would see 

133 


134 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

us, and not come near, and I want them 
to come close so I can get pictures of them. 
And as it would be no fun standing up, or 
kneeling, inside the piano box for an hour, 
or maybe even two, I nailed these little 
shelves on the sides of the box so we can 
sit on them and rest our legs.” 

“ And what are the little windows for? ” 
asked Mab. “ Or if the shelves are not 
shelves, but seats, maybe the holes aren’t 
windows,” she added. 

“ Yes, they are windows for me to look 
out, and to put the eye of my camera out 
of, so it can see to take pictures of the 
geese,” spoke Daddy Blake. “We shall 
all be inside the box, with the camera, look- 
ing out, and ready to take the pictures of 
the geese as soon as they come close 
enough.” 

Daddy Blake hammered away, and 
sawed at the piano box, until he had made 
it just the way he wanted it. Then he had 
some men put it on a wagon, and take it 
off to the shores of a pond not far from 
the Blake home. 


The Butcher-Bird 


135 


“ For several years now,” said Daddy, 
“ the Canadian geese, on their way up 
North from down South, have stopped for 
a few days near this pond. I hope they will 
do it this year.” 

“ What do they stop for? ” asked Hal. 

” To feed and rest. You see the wild 
Canadian goose, which is about as large as 
the tame kind of geese around here, is a 
wise bird. When it is Winter here he flies 
down South, where it is warm, and where 
he can find the celery and other green food 
he likes to eat. But when he knows it is 
getting warm up here he starts on his jour- 
ney, of something over two thousand miles, 
and flies over into the country of Canada. 
He stops to rest at several places on the 
way and this pond is one of them, for 
though the Canadian goose spends more 
time on land than some kinds, yet it also 
loves the water. So I hope some will come 
to our pond.” 

The men set Daddy Blake’s piano box 
down near the shore of the pond. Then 
they helped him cover it with branches, 


136 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

vines and leaves of trees, so that it looked 
like a brush-heap. 

“ Why do you do that? ” asked Hal. 

“ So the geese will not be afraid. They 
would not like the looks of the white piano 
box, but they do not mind the sight of 
bushes and branches, with which it is cov- 
ered.” 

“ And are we going to hide in there with 
you? ” asked Mab. 

“ Yes, if you want to see me take some 
geese pictures.” 

“ When will the geese come? ” asked 
Hal. 

“ That is hard to say. But you will eas- 
ily know them when you see them. For 
if they fly by day, as they sometimes do, 
though more often at night, you will see 
two long strings of big birds, high in the 
air. Generally they fly in the shape of a 
big letter V with an old gander in the lead, 
going: ‘ Honk! Honk! Honk! ’ like some 
automobile horn. You will never be mis- 
taken in wild geese once you have seen, or 
heard, them. But now let us find out how. 


The Butcher-Bird 137 

it seems to go in our little photograph- 
house.” 

There was just about room for Daddy 
Blake and the two children in the piano 
box, and not much more. They sat on the 
little shelf-like seats, and looked out of the 
holes that had been cut for the camera. 
Through the tangle of vines in front, the 
children could see the pond not far away. 

“ I wish the geese would come now,” 
said Mab. 

“ I don’t,” spoke her father with a laugh. 
“ I have not my camera with me.” 

When the children went home, leaving 
the vine-covered box on the shore of the 
pond, they looked up in the air for a sight 
of the V shaped flock of Canadian geese, 
and they listened for the “ Honk ! Honk ! ” 
but they did not see, nor hear, what they 
wished. 

Two days later, though, after Daddy 
Blake had taken the children on other bird 
hunts, when they found the nest of an owl 
in a hollow tree, they met a man who said : 


138 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ I heard the wild geese honking over 
my house last night, Mr. Blake.” 

“ Did you, indeed? Then they must 
have begun to fly North. Now, children, 
we must go hide in the box, and wait until 
we see some geese near enough to photo- 
graph,” said Daddy Blake. 

Taking his camera with him next day, 
Mr. Blake, with Hal and Mab, went to the 
pond. Mr. Blake had scattered some yel- 
low chicken corn near the edge of the 
water, right in front of the box, which was 
still hidden in the pile of brush. So well 
was it hidden that Hal and Mab had to 
look twice before they could tell where it 
was. 

“ I don’t believe the geese will see it, 
either,” said the little girl. 

“ Well, I hope they don’t,” spoke her 
father, “ but then they have much sharper 
eyes than have we. But now we will go in 
and wait.” 

There was a door cut in the back of the 
box, away from the side nearest the pond, 
and through this door in went Daddy 


The Butcher-Bird 139 

Blake and the children. Mr. Blake had 
his camera with him, and he had brought 
some chocolate for the children to eat as 
he thought they might get hungry while 
waiting for the geese to come honking 
along. 

“ And when you get tired I’ll take you 
home, and come back and wait until I get 
a picture,” said the father. 

“ Oh, we won’t get tired! ” Mab said. 

But it was not as easy to sit quietly in the 
box as it was to tramp over the fields, and 
through the woods and, after about half 
an hour, Hal and Mab began to fidget 
about. They kept very still, though, for 
Daddy had told them they must only whis- 
per, as wild or Canadian, geese have very 
good ears, and are easily frightened. 

“ Well, we’ll go pretty soon now, if we 
don’t get a picture,” whispered Daddy 
Blake. “ Then I’ll come back alone.” 

But just then, far off in the air, sounded: 

“Honk! Honk! Honk!” 

“ There they are ! ” cried Mab, out loud, 
and then she clapped her hand over her 


140 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

mouth and whispered: “ Oh, I forgot! I 
didn’t mean to do that.” 

“ It’s all right,” spoke her father, kindly. 
“ No harm is done. The geese are too far 
off for them to have heard. But they really 
are coming, and we must get ready for 
them. I hope they alight at this pond.” 

He opened the back door of the little 
piano house, and pointed up to the sky. 
There, just as he had told them, Hal and 
Mab saw two lines of birds in the shape 
of a V, the point coming toward them. 
This point was one goose, the leader of the 
flock. 

“They are headed this way!” said 
Daddy Blake. “ I’ll get my camera ready. 
And now you must keep very still, chil- 
dren, if I am to get a picture.” 

He closed the door of the box, or 
“ blind ”, as hunters and photographers 
call it, and pointed his camera out of one 
of the window holes. The “ honking ” 
came nearer and nearer, and then there was 
a sudden splashing in the waters of the 
pond as the geese settled down in it. 


The Butcher-Bird 


141 

“Good!” whispered Daddy Blake. 
“ They have seen my corn, and are going 
to eat some. Now keep very still.” 

Hal and Mab scarcely stirred, though 
their small legs and arms ached. But they 
wanted to see Daddy Blake take the pic- 
tures. Looking out of the little holes they 
could see about twenty-five wild Canadian 
geese on the pond. Some were putting 
their heads under to get the weeds growing 
on the bottom, and others were picking up 
the corn that lay in the water, near shore. 
The wild geese made a beautiful pic- 
ture. 

“ Click! ” went Daddy Blake’s camera, 
and he had one photograph. Then he got 
ready to take more. By this time the geese 
were on shore in front of the “ blind ” and 
were walking up to it, eating corn as they 
went. What splendid, big fellows those 
geese were! How strong and swift they 
looked — something like barnyard geese, 
but wilder. 

“ Click ! ” went the camera again, and 
Daddy Blake took more pictures. Hal 


142 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

and Mab never moved. Near them were 
tiny holes from which they could peep. 

Suddenly there was a noise at one end of 
the pond. Perhaps a fish jumped out of 
the water. At any rate the geese were 
frightened. With loud “ honks ” they 
flapped their wings, and rose in the air. 

“ They are going away 1 ” cried Daddy 
Blake. “ We need keep quiet no longer. 
But I want to get a picture of them on the 
wing, as they fly.” 

He quickly opened the door of the 
“ blind ” and took some more snapshots of 
the geese as they formed the letter V. 

“ I have some fine pictures ! ” Daddy 
Blake said. “ It was worth all the trouble 
it took to make the piano box into a blind.” 

“ And now may we have it for a play- 
house? ” asked Mab. 

Her father told her she and Hal might, 
and that he would have the men bring it 
home to the yard for them, as he no longer 
needed it for getting geese pictures. 

On the way home Daddy Blake told the 
children how the wild geese and ducks laid 


The Butcher-Bird 


143 


their eggs on the ground, in a nest roughly 
made of sticks and grass. But the mother 
goose, or duck, lines the nest with soft 
feathers from her breast so the babies have 
a nice cradle after all. The nests of wild 
ducks are not easy to find, as they are in 
the middle of dense woods or swamps. 

“ There is one duck, though, that builds 
its nest in a tree,” said Daddy Blake. 
“ This is the wood duck, and very beauti- 
fully colored it is. It builds its nest in a 
hollow tree, like a woodpecker.” 

“ And how do the little ducks gets to the 
water? ” asked Hal. “ Do they fly? ” 

“ No, the first time, or two, the mother 
Carries them from the nest to the water in 
her bill.” 

“ Just like a kitten! ” cried Mab. 

“ Well, something like a kitten, yes,” 
spoke Daddy Blake. “Though mother 
cats never take their kittens to water that 
I know of. Puppy dogs might, but not 
kittens, for cats are not fond of taking a 
bath, except to wash their faces with their 
tongues.” 


144 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

“ My Dickie bird loved his bath,” spoke 
Mab. “ I wish I had him back,” and tears 
came in her eyes as she thought of her lost 
pet. 

“ I must get you a new one,” said her 
father. “ I will get it for your birthday.” 

It was on the way home from having 
made the pictures of the Canadian geese 
that Hal and Mab saw something queer. 
On a thorny spike of a bush they saw a little 
mouse, and at first Hal thought it was 
alive. But when they came nearer they 
saw that the little mouse was quite dead. 

“ Did it fall on the thorn, and get 
killed? ” asked Mab. 

‘‘ No,” said Daddy Blake. “ It was put 
there by the butcher-bird.” 

“ The butcher-bird ! ” cried the children. 
“ Does it keep a butcher shop? ” 

“ No, but it hangs up its food, or meat, 
on hooks, almost the way the butcher does 
in his shop,” answered Daddy Blake. 
“ Let us hide here, and we may soon see 
the butcher-bird.” 












CHAPTER XII 


DICKIE COMES BACK 

There was a thick, leafy bush near the 
thorny one, on a spike of which the little 
mouse was stuck, and, sitting down on a 
log back of the green screen. Daddy Blake 
and the children waited. 

“ Are you going to take a picture of the 
butcher-bird? ” asked Hal. 

“ I will if I can,” his father answered, 
making ready his camera. 

“ Why do they call it a butcher-bird, and 
what does it look like? ” Mab wanted to 
know. 

“ Because it kills, or butchers, its food, 
and hangs it up in such a queer way. 
Sometimes it sticks a mouse, or other bird, 
on a thorn to kill it, as the butcher-bird, or 
shrike as it is called, does not have strong 
enough claws to hold what it catches. Ah, 

145 


146 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

I think our butcher is coming now,” said 
Daddy Blake. 

There was a whirr of wings, and sud- 
denly there perched on the thorn bush a 
bird about as big as a robin, with gray 
feathers on his back, a sort of light blue 
on his breast and with black and white 
wings and tail. The bird’s head was large, 
and it had a heavy black line on it. His 
bill was hooked on the end, like a parrot’s 
only not so much so, and it is with this hook 
that the butcher-bird tears the meat he eats. 

Looking all around him, for a sign of 
danger, but not seeing Daddy Blake and 
the children, where they were hidden, the 
shrike, or butcher-bird, began eating the 
mouse he had probably hung up there a 
day or two before. 

“ Snap ! ” went Daddy Blake’s camera, 
the eye of which he had poked through the 
bushes, and though the butcher-bird flew 
quickly away its picture had been taken. 

“ The butcher birds are not what you 
might call nice birds,” said Daddy Blake, 
“ but still they are very useful when they 


Dickie comes Back 


147 


do not kill other good birds. They are use- 
ful when they catch mice, and also when 
they catch sparrows, of which we have so 
many that they drive away better, and more 
useful, birds. But the shrike is not nice 
when he kills our song birds, and those that 
eat insects which do damage in the garden. 

“ There are two kinds of butcher-birds, 
the loggerhead and Northern shrike,” 
went on Daddy Blake. “ The loggerhead, 
which is smaller, comes to us in the Sum- 
mer. He will perch on some high place, 
even as high as a church steeple, until 
down below, near the ground, he sees 
something he can kill. It may be another 
bird, or a flying insect. After it he darts as 
quick as a flash, catching his meal in his 
bill. 

“ Sometimes the loggerhead will hide in 
a bush, and, by making a noise like a spar- 
row, or other bird, will attract, or call, the 
other bird to it. When near enough the 
butcher-bird will pounce on the poor thing 
and kill it with his bill, or afterward on a 
thorn. Shrikes often kill grasshoppers, 


148 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

too, and when I was a boy, and we had to 
go to the fields to open up the shocks of 
corn, for husking, the shrikes would perch 
on a fence rail and watch for the field-mice 
to dart out from among the corn-stalks. 
Then the birds would catch them.” 

“ I don’t like the butcher-birds,” said 
Mab. 

“ Well, they are very useful,” her father 
said. “ The Northern one comes to us in 
Winter, and is quite a large bird, being 
about nine inches long, with gray feathers, 
and black and white ones on his wings. 
As there are no grasshoppers in Winter the 
Northern shrike must eat other birds, or 
mice. And often they will kill several at 
once, one after the other, and put them on 
thorns where they can eat them as they 
please. Shrikes have very sharp eyes, and 
can see a long distance. That is why they 
perch high, and dart so swiftly after an- 
other bird, or mouse.” 

Leaving the dead mouse stuck on the 
thorn, where the butcher-bird could come 
back and get it, Hal and Mab, with Daddy 


Dickie comes Back 


149 


Blake, went home. They had had a won- 
derful time hunting birds that day, and 
had seen several new kinds. 

One night, as Mab was getting un- 
dressed for bed, she heard what she thought 
was a voice out in the yard calling: 

“Who? Who? Who?” 

“ Oh, Mother, who is that asking ques- 
tions? ” Mab wanted to know. “ Are they 
asking my name? ” 

“ Oh, no,” answered Daddy Blake, who 
heard what Mab asked. “ That is an owl 
bird. I would like to get a picture of one 
but I can’t in the dark.” 

“ Couldn’t you take a flash-light, same 
as you did our pictures in the dark once? ” 
asked Hal. 

“ Well, I might, if I could get the owl 
to set off the flash and take its own picture, 
as the catbird did,” said Daddy Blake. 
“ I’ll think about it.” 

“ Who? Who? Who? ” hooted the owl 
out in the tree near Mab’s window, and it 
sounded as though he might be saying: 
“ Whose picture are you going to take? ” 


150 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

Mab and Hal looked out of the window, 
but it was so dark they could not see the 
owl, though they could hear the fluttering 
of his wings through the leaves. 

The next day, as Hal and Mab were out 
in the garden with Daddy Blake, their 
father suddenly whispered to them : 

“ Look ! There’s an owl ! ” 

“ Where? ” asked Hal, in a low voice. 
“ I don’t see it.” 

Daddy Blake pointed to what the chil- 
dren at first thought was only a large lump 
of bark on a tree, but, as they looked more 
closely, they saw it had eyes, and was really 
a bird. But its feathers were almost the 
color of bark, and even the tufts, that 
looked like ears, seemed also like sharp 
bits of bark. 

“ That is a short-eared owl, or meadow 
owl,” said Mr. Blake, and the bird allowed 
them to come quite close without flying 
away. ” I can get a picture of that owl, 
though not of the hoot owl we heard the 
other night. For he only flies after dark. 


Dickie comes Back 15 1 

while this owl does some of his hunting by 
day.” 

“ What do owls hunt, Daddy? ” asked 
Hal, when Mr. Blake had taken a picture 
of the short-eared owl, which soon after- 
ward flew away. 

“ Mice are what an owl mostly hunts 
for,” said Daddy, “ though they will eat 
beef meat, as some do when they are 
tame.” 

“ I wouldn’t like to have a tame owl,’’ 
Mab said. “ It has such big, round stare- 
at-you eyes.” 

“ An owl’s eyes have to be big so it can 
see in the dark,” spoke Daddy Blake. 
“ And, unlike the eyes of most birds, those 
of an owl cannot be moved. When he 
wants to see anywhere but straight in front 
of him he has to turn his head. 

“ But owls are very useful and helpful 
to the farmer, for they hunt mice for him 
at night, catching them in the dark, as well 
as moles and other things that do harm in 
the garden. And, unlike other birds, the 
owls do not go away when Winter comes. 


152 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

They hunt all winter, living down in the 
warm hollow of some old tree, or perhaps 
in the top of a barn, and sometimes in 
church steeples. Owls sleep nearly all day 
long, and come out at night to hunt. They 
are a wise-looking bird, and almost as 
smart as they look.” 

Through the Spring and Summer 
Daddy Blake often took the children hunt- 
ing birds, sometimes getting pictures of 
the feathered friends, and again just watch- 
ing them as they flew over the fields, or in 
the woods. 

They heard the partridge, or ruffled 
grouse beat his drum, by fluttering his 
wings so quickly to and fro that they 
looked like a blurr of light. They heard 
the quail, or “ Bob White,” whistle his 
clear note, they watched the backward. 
Southern flight of the Canadian geese, and 
found where a pair of owls had taken an 
old nest in a hollow tree, where they would 
stay all Winter. 

“ It will soon be cold weather again,” 
said Mab one day, as she and Hal came 


Dickie comes Back 


153 


back from having been ofif hunting birds 
with Daddy Blake and his camera. “ And 
I wish my Dickie was safely in his cage,” 
and she looked at the empty one of brass 
wire. 

“ Perhaps he may come — soon,” said her 
mother with a smile. 

“ Oh, I hope so,” sighed Mab. 

“ Come, children,” said Mr. Blake, 
about a week after this. “ We will go bird 
hunting for the last time this season. 
Nearly all the birds that do not intend to 
stay with us all Winter have gone down 
South, but we may still find a few.” 

They did see some, among them the 
Northern shrike, and they found where he 
had stuck a dead sparrow on a thorn. Roly- 
Poly went along this time, as there were 
now only a few birds for him to scare. The 
little dog raced here and there, through the 
bushes and among the dried leaves, for he 
liked to go with Daddy Blake almost as 
well as did the children. 

Daddy took a picture of some birds 
while Hal and Mab were resting on a log 


154 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

in the woods. It was almost time to go 
home. Hal got up from the log and 
walked around to the other end of it. 

“ What are you going to do? ” asked 
Mab. 

“ Tm going to jump off and see how far 
I can go. Fm going to make believe Fm 
a circus performer,” said the little boy. 

Hal gave a jump up in the air, but when 
he came down he gave a funny cry. 

“ Oh, what is the matter? ” asked Mab. 

“ I — I landed in a mud hole,” answered 
her brother. ” I — Fm stuck fasti It’s 
away up over my shoes! Oh, Mab, help 
me out! ” 

Hal was indeed stuck in a mud hole. 
Some water, running from a spring near 
the mossy log, had made a deep mud hole, 
over which the dried Autumn leaves had 
drifted so it could not be seen. And Hal 
had jumped right there. 

Mab ran to help her brother, but she 
could not get near enough to help pull 
him out without getting in the mud her- 
self. 


Dickie comes Back 155 

“ Wait I Wait ! ” called Mr. Blake, who, 
having taken the pictures, had come back 
and had seen what the trouble was. “ I’ll 
get you out, Hal.” 

And he did, though Daddy’s feet were 
wet and muddy too. 

“ Never mind,” he said, “ you didn’t 
mean to do it, Hal. But next time you 
must look where you are going to land 
before you jump.” 

“ I will,” promised Hal. “ I thought it 
was land but it was water.” 

Daddy Blake hurried home so Hal 
could change his shoes and stockings. As 
they entered the back door, having wiped 
off as much mud as they could, there was 
heard the sound of a bird singing. 

“ Hark ! ” cried Mab, her eyes shining. 
“ That sounds like a canary ! ” 

“ It is a canary,” Hal said, after listen- 
ing a second. 

“ Oh ! ” cried Mab. “ Oh, maybe it’s 
my Dickie come back I ” 

She ran up into the sitting-room, where 
the sound of the singing was most plain. 


156 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

And there, in the bright yellow cage was 
a bright yellow bird, singing at the top of 
his voice. 

“ Oh, Dickie ! Dickie ! ” cried Mab, 
standing close to the cage, “You did 
come back to me ; didn’t you, Dickie ! Oh, 
I’m so glad! ” and she clapped her hands 
in delight. 

“ Yes, it is Dickie,” said Hal, when he 
had put on clean shoes. “ Did he come 
back in his cage when we were out hunt- 
ing other birds with Daddy? ” 

“ Well, he is in the cage, isn’t he? ” 
asked Mother Blake, smiling. 

“ If he isn’t the same Dickie I had be- 
fore I will love him just the same,” Mab 
said. “ Oh, how sweetly he sings! ” 

The yellow canary hopped about in his 
cage singing again and again, trilling and 
whistling. 

Aunt Lolly and Uncle Penny wait came 
into the room. Hal and Mab were watch- 
ing and listening to the bird. 

“ Happy birthday ! ” said Aunt Lolly. 

“ Oh, so it is my birthday ! ” cried Mab. 


Dickie comes Back 


157 


“ I had forgotten all about it. I must go 
and give Daddy a kiss. I’ll give you all 
kisses ! ” and she began on her mother. 

Then, when she had kissed them all, and 
Daddy, of course, Mab threw a kiss to 
Roly-Poly and to the bird singing in his 
cage. 

“ Is this the new bird you said you would 
get for my birthday? ” she asked her 
father. 

“ Yes, this is your birthday-bird,” an- 
swered Daddy Blake, “ but he is not a new 
one.” 

” Is he my own, dear Dickie? ” Mab 
anxiously wanted to know. 

“ He is, strange as it may seem,” said her 
father. “ This is how he came back. The 
other day Mrs. Ward, who lives down the 
street, heard a bird singing very sweetly 
in her garden. She looked out and saw a 
yellow bird, sitting on a bush near the 
window. She knew it could not be a yel- 
low warbler, for they have flown down 
South some time ago. 

“ Tt must be some one’s canary that got 


158 Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

away,’ said Mrs. Ward. Then she remem- 
bered about your bird, Mab, and she put 
out an empty cage she happened to have. 
In the cage she put bird seeds and a little 
dish with water in, for the bird to take a 
bath.” 

“ And did Dickie fly in her cage, and 
take a bath? ” asked Mab. 

“That is what he did, and then Mrs. 
Ward closed the door, and Dickie was 
caught. But he seemed glad. He must 
have known that he would have no place to 
stay in the woods in Winter and he did not 
know about flying South, as did the other 
birds. So you see he found his way nearly 
back to his own home, and to you.” 

“ Oh, I am so glad ! ” cried Mab. 

“ And so am I,” said her brother. 

Roly-Poly, the little poodle dog, seemed 
glad also, for he rolled over and over on 
the floor, and turned somersaults, barking 
while the canary sang. 

“ And did Mrs. Ward bring the bird 
here? ” asked Mab. 

“ She told us about him,” said her 


Dickie comes Back 159 

mother, “ and we asked her to keep him in 
her house so we could surprise you on your 
birthday.” 

“ And, oh ! it is a lovely surprise ! ” cried 
Mab. “ I am so happy I ” 

Dickie sang louder than ever in his own 
cage, to which he was changed from the 
one he had flown in at Mrs. Ward’s 
house. 

That night Mab was made more happy, 
for some of her little friends came over, 
and she and Hal had a party, and Dickie 
sang louder than ever when the lights were 
aglow, and the ice cream dishes rattled. 

“ Oh, we never had so much fun as we 
did this Summer, when we hunted birds 
with Daddy,” said Mab. “ Did we, 
Hal? ” 

“ No, never ! ” he answered with a 
spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. “ And 
we hunted your Dickie, too, Mab.” 

“ Dickie hunted himself,” laughed the 
little girl. 

Then the party was ended, and this story 
is ended too, as you can see for yourself. 


i6o Daddy Takes us Hunting Birds 

But there are other places for Daddy Blake 
to take Hal and Mab, and you may read 
about what else the children did in another 
book. 


THE END 


The next volume in this series will be 
called: “ Daddy Takes Us to the Woods.” 










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